No Place Else
by Lumos-Nox-Obliviate
Summary: Brittana AU fic. Santana Lopez is a boarder at Alexandra Academy. Brittany is the new girl trying to fit into a group of friends who already have their webs of connections and secrets. Can she fill the shoes of the girl she replaced?
1. Prologue

**A/N: **

**Hello! **

**So I was too inspired by this idea for a Brittana AU fic to wait until I'd finished Avalanche, so I decided to write the prologue and post it and see what reaction it gets!**

**People always say write what you know. And I know boarding school. So even if this has already been done- I'm doing it again! **

**Let me know what you think and if you guys like it I think I'll keep it going- at least to tide me over till the Glee Hiatus is done so I can start Avalanche Two. **

**:)**

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><p><strong>Prologue:<strong>

By the end of summer, Santana Lopez began to despise the fact that her bedroom window had a front row seat to the morning sun. It beat through her curtains, turning her room into a sweat box- so she woke up with the sheets damp and her skin clogged.

One week. One more week left of it and then she'd be back to her shoe box of a room at Alexandra Academy- where hopefully, they'd fixed the air con over the break.

Santana leant back in her desk chair, and edged away from her computer into the slither of shade that remained near her desk. She almost needed her freaking sun glasses to see through the glare to her computer screen.

She would go and flop on her bed away from the heat but her laptop cord didn't reach that far and she needed to be present in the social networking world at this moment in time because there was some serious breaking news coming in through Facebook chat.

There had been stirrings about it before the school year had even ended- when everyone already knew Olivia's fate. They'd need a replacement. There were ten boarders in each grade. Forty girls total to fill forty rooms in the boarding complex. Olivia leaving meant that tenth grade, Santana's grade, had an open spot.

The rumours of the new girl began on Facebook, and were finally confirmed this morning by Tina Cohen-Chang, whose sister was a senior and had gone back early to help orientate the new batch of ninth graders and the one or two new students from the other grades into the boarding house.

Quinn had told Santana over Facebook chat that Tina's sister said the new girl was nice. Dumb, but nice. Santana rolled her eyes and typed back:

_"You already fill our dumb blonde quota. We don't need another one."_

_"Haha. Fuck you," _Quinn typed back.

Santana moved her chair out of the hot beam of sun coming through her window and went offline without saying goodbye. Quinn wouldn't care- it was how they'd done things all summer long- just kept up an endless flow of conversation that was fractured, days apart- but never had a greeting or a goodbye.

Santana was about to click out of her Facebook window and carry on online shopping for clothes to lord over the others when they all were back at Alexandra, but she caught sight of an offline message bubble appearing beside her notifications icon.

It was probably Quinn, messaging a more well-thought out retort, Santana guessed, but she clicked anyway, leaving the mouse while it loaded and stretching her arms above her head, cracking her knuckles.

After a moment the screen showed up a new message from _Tina_, not Quinn. It was addressed to all the girls in the 10th grade boarding house- Amy, Mercedes, Lauren, Sugar, Quinn, Rachel, Emma, Becky and Santana- as well as a few of their friends from down the road at their brother school, Andrews Academy of Boys'- Kurt, Puck, Finn, Sam, Artie and Mike.

The subject title was 'NEW GIRL'. Santana clicked on the message and saw it contained a short line of type and a link.

_"My sis just added her as a friend and I stalked her profile"_

Santana clicked on the link and tapped her fingers against the buttons of her mouse lightly so that the springs beneath them quivered. She was equal parts curious and nervous to see what the new girl was like and she hoped to _God_ they weren't getting another Rachel Berry. Or worse, their very own gumpish girl version of Finn Hudson.

The screen loaded and Santana took note of the profile picture first. It was two girls wearing matching sunglasses, posing with their lips pouted. One was blonde, the other was brown haired- but that was about all the photo gave away. The glasses were those huge ridiculous ones you got at party stores and they covered almost their entire faces. Santana tried to click through the other profile pictures to figure out which one was the new girl and what she looked like, but the privacy settings wouldn't let her.

Santana resorted instead to scrolling through the general information listed under her profile. The new girl had some place called McKinley High listed as her High School- she obviously hadn't gotten around to changing it. Her birthday was listed as the 17th of July, 1994.

Under the section 'Religious Views', she had written: "I can't see any from where I'm sitting."

Santana paused at that, snorting derisively. She opened up a new tab in her browser and clicked open her Facebook messages, accessing the NEW GIRL message thread again. Quinn had already commented, her message beginning with a section that had obviously been copied and pasted from the new girls profile.

_"Favourite Author: Judy Blume. Oh. My. God. This chick would have gotten on so well with my seven year old self."_

Another message had just popped up beneath Quinn's. It was from Puck, Santana's boyfriend.

_"Scroll down. It gets better."_

Santana clicked the tab back into new girl's profile and followed Puck's advice to Quinn.

Under her 'Favourite Quotations', the girl had listed the lyrics to Barney the Dinosaur's _'I Love You, You Love Me'_ song.

"Jesus christ," Santana breathed, scrolling further still.

The music section was a mess. One look at it told Santana that this girl obviously didn't have a clue about the first rule of social networking. Sure, you could share with the world that you liked deadmau5 or Rihanna. Even 'Smelly Cat' by Phoebe Buffay was a good one to list for a laugh. But S Club 7? Westlife? _The Wiggles? _Normal people tended to keep that to themselves.

Santana shook her head, already picturing the look on Rachel's face when she laid eyes on this sad excuse for musical taste. She dragged the mouse across the screen, highlighting a few of the more horrendous artists listed and copy and pasted them into the message line in the other tab. Beneath it she typed_- "I'm already nominating her to DJ at our next formal"_- and hit send.

The message flashed up an instant later below the ones that Quinn, Tina and Puck had added since she'd last checked.

In reply to Puck's "Scroll down, it gets better" message, Tina had written:

_"Interested In."_

Santana frowned, confused, as she saw Puck's reply:

_"I know right?"_

And then Quinn's:

_"OMFG is this chick serious? "_

Santana hurriedly clicked back into the new girls profile and flicked her finger down the scroll button, scanning for anything that could top the fact that this chick liked The Wiggles.

_Interested In: Men and Women. _

Santana's eyes narrowed at the screen. It wasn't often that she saw people posting their 'Interested In'. Only guys like Puck and Finn did it- trying to add as much game to their page as possible so that any female who came within three clicks of their page would be fully aware that they were heterosexual, red blooded American males.

_"So this girl's Bi?" _Quinn had typed into the message thread.

_"Looks like it," _Tina replied.

_"Don't get too excited Quinn," _Puck typed.

_"Question,"_ Mercedes name popped up. _"Do tenth graders get locks on our doors?"_

_"After reading this girl's 'Interested In', I sincerely hope so," _Quinn typed back.

Santana sat back and watched this interaction with an amused smile. She didn't type anything, too caught up with wondering whether or not this girl was as crazy as the others thought she was, or just had a helluva lot more balls than the rest of them.

Absently, Santana navigated back to the girls profile picture and brought it up to fill the screen. She switched her eyes back and forth slowly between the two girls, more and more intrigued as to which one she was; which face belonged to Brittany Pierce.

* * *

><p>"Please let this be the last one," Santana's cousin Gareth puffed, his arm muscles all tensed and veiny as he lugged the huge canvas bag full of Santana's clothes down the narrow hallway of the tenth grade dorm- towards Santana's allocated room. She was walking behind him, struggling with an awkwardly shape box that jutted painfully into her hips.<p>

"Last one...I promise," she gasped. It was their eighth trip into the boarding house from the car.

With a grunt Gareth heaved the bag up onto the bed and leant against the doors of her closet, struggling to rein in his breath.

With both of them in the room together and all of Santana's stuff, there was barely any room to move. The room was slightly larger than her ninth grade room, but even then it still only had a thin strip of floor space between a slim bed- built off one wall- and a desk and wardrobe built off the other. The whole room- even the fabric covered corkboard walls was the same shade of light blue. The door was a sliding one- but it did, Santana noticed, have a lock.

The tenth Graders were lucky enough to be housed in the second story of the more modern part of the boarding house, with the ninth graders below them and the eleventh graders in the older block opposite them. The twelfth graders got the most spacious block at the back of the property- with their own common room and kitchen while the rest of the house had to share the large communal dining area and a TV room, nicknamed by some long forgotten tradition _'the Fruit Room'_.

Santana hadn't been lucky enough to get a window on the left side of the block- which would have left her with a pretty sweet view of the tops of the trees and the surrounding streets. Instead, she was on the right side- which overlooked back into the large square of grass in the middle of the boarding house. Any sunlight that her room got would have to be coaxed through the gaps in the massive, towering tree that had been planted smack bang in the middle of the grass, and had gotten so prolific that it's roots broke through the bricked pathways between the blocks and it's biggest branches had to be anchored to it's trunk by thick ropes.

Hidden somewhere below it's branches, Santana could hear a shrill reunion between some girls- who seemed to communicate almost entirely in giggles. Beside Santana, Gareth winced.

"I'm too old for this place," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was the first time he'd been to Santana's boarding school. Her parents had bribed him last minute to make the trip with her because they both had their schedules jammed full at work.

There had been both positives and negatives to Gareth taking Santana. The positives included his sweet car- which was a tricked out, lowered BMW, and his great taste in music, which all college students just seemed to inherit. During the two hour car ride Santana had made up a note on her phone to look up on YouTube several underground hip-hop and trance artists that he'd played for her. And he'd leant her a mix CD to load onto her iTunes.

The negative was that Gareth's summer job- as a "Pizza Toppings Artist" at a restaurant in their home town, meant that he'd had to drop her off super early in the day so that he could get home in time for his shift. They'd arrived at 11 a.m- far earlier than any respectable tenth, eleventh or twelfth grader should arrive.

"Do you, uh, need help unpacking?" Gareth asked, shoving a hand through his hair and shooting the mound of boxes and bags a weary look.

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks though. For the ride and help and stuff."

"Alright."

There was pause and then Santana felt herself being pulled into a gruff hug.

"You take care of yourself. And remember, if you get pregnant Abuela's going to…"

"...beat me with a chair. Yeah, I know I know," Santana laughed.

Gareth nodded, satisfied and then picked his way past her bags and out into the hall.

"Enjoy the mix CD too. That's real music _primita!" _

Santana let her laughter trail after him down the hallway and then turned back to her room, taking in the three hours of unpacking that lay ahead of her. It got easier each year she she went through the process, but it never made it less daunting.

It seemed an especially big deal now seeing as it was sweltering inside the small room- whose windows only allowed a small gap before the latches on them caught and held. Santana was sweating from the bag shifting ordeal and felt a lightness wafting through her head. She managed to squeeze into the small space her bags had left at the end of the mattress and angle herself around them to reach her handbag at the other end. Out of it she pulled the coke bottle that Gareth had brought her when they stopped half way for gas. It was luke warm and flat but it was liquid so Santana swallowed the last third of it gratefully and dropped the empty bottle out into the hallway to begin her rubbish pile that she'd eventually lug to one of the buns sitting at either end of the corridor.

Setting up her laptop, she decided, would be the first order of business- because it meant she'd be able to upload Gareth's CD and jam while she unpacked. She spider-climbed her way over her stuff to the other side of the room- where she remembered her laptop bag had been placed somewhere amongst the crap crowded on top of it. After some rearranging, she managed to unearth the computer and the power cord and clear a small space to sit it on her desk.

The Mac had only powered down and gone to sleep since Santana had used it for her morning Facebook ritual before she and Gareth had left- which meant that when she swiped her finger over the mouse pad, the screen sprung to life bearing the remnants of the last Facebook profile she'd checked out. She scrolled down the page one last time and was halfway through sweeping her cursor up to close the window when an unfamiliar voice came from behind her.

"Hey! That's my Facebook profile!"


	2. Vertigo

**A/N: **

**Hello! The interest for the prologue has been awesome so I've decided to actually see this thing out- I've got my story arc all set and everything and I'm excited. I hope you guys like it! **

**A big thank you to my beta- RaWe- who helped 'Americanify' this and make it more authentic. **

**Chapter 1: Vertigo**

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><p>"And then what did you say?" Quinn was bent forward, cross legged on Santana's bed, her hands clasped tightly together in anticipation. "Please, <em>please <em>tell me that you didn't say we all stalked her page before we got here!"

Santana grimaced. "Not- not in those exact…"

"Oh my god…" Mercedes interrupted from her space on the floor. "You made us all look like freaks before she's even met us!"

"Uh, no, she listens to _Meatloaf,_" Lauren said from beside Mercedes. "Meatloaf vetoes anything we've done. She's still more of a freak."

It was later on in the day and the others had begun arriving. None of them had seen Brittany yet because she'd left with the ninth graders and their senior buddies to go for a walk around the township nearby.

"Oh God." Santana had her thumb pads pressed into her temples at the memory. "You should have seen what she was wearing. It was bad."

"Like…" Quinn pointed in amazement, "Berry bad?"

"Hey!" Rachel frowned from her perch up upon Santana's desk.

"So what happened then?" Quinn leaned forward to smack her clasped hands on Santana's thigh.

* * *

><p>At the sound of Brittany's voice, Santana whirled around so quickly that her movement toppled over one of the boxes stacked beside her. With a clatter and scrape, all of Santana's beauty products and several thousand ear buds spilled all around what little floor space was left.<p>

"Damn it," Santana cursed. She was half-way through bending over to salvage the mess when she remembered why she'd turned around in the first place. She righted herself and looked up.

A blonde girl- tall and lanky- had perched herself on the end of Santana's bed where Santana herself had been sitting just moments before. She had one hand up to her mouth and had her bottom lip pinched between her thumb and forefinger- squeezing so hard that the pink skin went white. Her eyes were blue and worried.

"That's your…" Santana turned vaguely back to the screen before facing the new girl again. "You're Brittany, yeah. That's...that's your profile."

Brittany nodded.

"But we're not friends," She said, her fingers still holding onto her bottom lip.

Santana let out an awkward gushed laugh. Just one syllable. It fell between them and rolled to scatter somewhere with her ear buds.

"No. We're not."

"So how do you know who I am?"

"I-uh- you know Lucy- Lucy Cohen-Chang?"

Brittany's face brightened like a little kid finding their Mom in the supermarket. She let go of her lip and nodded enthusiastically. "She's my orientation week buddy."

"Right. Yeah. Well, her sister's in tenth grade and she heard about you so we just…"

"You wanted to see who I was?" Brittany helped her out.

Santana cleared her throat awkwardly. "Erm. Yeah."

Brittany seemed happy with the answer because she gave a short nod and then folded her hands on her lap. Then she looked around at all Santana's boxes like she'd only just noticed them.

"You have a lot of stuff," she said politely, reaching up to knuckle her nose.

"Uh...yep." Santana didn't know what else to say so she just turned away and frowned down at her computer screen, hoping like hell the chick would get the hint and leave her alone.

But Brittany was oblivious. "You have a lot more stuff than I do. I only had…"

Santana looked over her shoulder and watched Brittany tick off on her fingers. "One...two...three...four….five...Five bags not including my handbag or my school bag. Though I should probably have included my school bag because I packed all my undies in there so let's make that six bags and a handbag. And you have…" She drew her eyes over the room, mouthing the numbers as she looked at each one of Santana's luggage. "...five, six...seven...eight...eight! You have eight bags and oh golly...one, two, three, four boxes!"

Santana had to duck closer to her lap top screen so that Brittany wouldn't catch her laughter.

* * *

><p>"So...she just sat there and watched while you unpacked?" Mercedes had her nose all wrinkled up.<p>

"Pretty much. She helped me make my bed." At that, Quinn dropped her eyes down to the bed covers suspiciously.

"That's weird. She sounds soo weird," Lauren said.

Santana thought about the way the Brittany had scooted her bum back until she was nestled in the corner of Santana's bed- hugging her knees up tight to her chest and resting her chin on the tops of them. She stayed there the whole time- asking Santana questions about what type of moisturiser she used or commenting on the fact that the dresses she was hanging in her wardrobe were pretty.

They hadn't even formally introduced themselves- Santana guessed that Brittany had just taken note of the name tag that the matrons slipped in the slots by their doors. And even though it had been weird and too claustrophobic with Brittany sitting there, she hadn't felt to Santana like a stranger.

"She was probably just lonely," Rachel pointed out.

"Or trying to come onto you," Quinn added. Santana rolled her eyes.

"We can't… we aren't allowed to make that an issue Quinn," Rachel snapped.

"I don't know what you mean, Rachel," Quinn said innocently. "I wasn't being anti-gay, you know I like your Dads. I'm just being...anti-gay in an all-girls boarding house."

"I'm pretty sure Miss Beiste is gay," Mercedes said absently, frowning down at a clump of hair she was inspecting for split ends.

"Nah, I've seen her sneak her boyfriend into her room," Lauren said.

"No you haven't," Santana frowned. "I remember you admitting when you were drunk that you made that up!"

Lauren shrugs. "I bet it's true though. I can imagine her being kinky as f…"

"No, no. No, no, no." Rachel had her hands jammed firmly over her ears and was shaking her head fiercely at Lauren. "We're not discussing it."

Quinn was looking at Rachel with a slow, mischievous grin. "But Rachel," she said smoothly, "we know you all love it when Miss Bieste …"

"Miss Bieste is really nice." The voice came from the hallway- through Santana's half open door and it made the rest of Quinn's sentence fall away as she turned to look for the source.

"She helped me when I forgot which dorm I lived in."

Everyone looked at everyone else before they looked at Brittany. Rachel looked genuinely frightened and Quinn was smirking like she'd just struck upon gold.

Brittany peeked her head in through the sliding door and smiled around at them.

"Hello, I'm Brittany. But you already know that because you've all seen my Facebook."

Everyone snapped their eyes to Santana and then back again. She swallowed and kept her eyes trained on Brittany, willing her to duck her head back out the door and not go through with the social suicide Santana knew was coming.

"What're your names?" She asked politely when there had been a few beats of silence.

"I'm Rachel Berry. I'm dorm captain."

"Dorm captain…" Brittany repeated the words like they made no sense.

"Yes. I pretty much am responsible for overseeing that the dorm remains clean and orderly and I also assist the matrons with any issues that arise around behaviour problems like being awake after lights out or using your cell phones during home work time- which we call 'prep' and…"

"I'm Mercedes," Mercedes cut Rachel off and smiled at Brittany. "Don't take too much notice of this one...she likes the sound of her own voice."

Brittany raised her eyes back to Rachel and nodded slowly, like she was committing that factoid to memory.

"Lauren," Lauren stated, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and raising her eyebrows at Brittany. "I'm the self-confessed neerrrd. Come to me with anything techy or film related and I'm your gal."

Brittany nodded again and the trailed her eyes around to Quinn, who was tucked up in the same corner that Brittany had been while Santana unpacked. She had pulled a pin out of Santana's wall and was raking it up and down the fabric. She wasn't looking to see Brittany's eyes on her.

"That's Quinn," Santana said finally, when it was obvious Quinn was going to ignore her.

"Hi Quinn," Brittany said softly to the back of Quinn's head.

The pause that came after that dug underneath Santana's skin and she shot a glare at Quinn, who had her forehead pressed to the wall and was smiling slyly.

"Just ignore her, Brittany," Santana said. "Quinn's the token head-case. She doesn't talk unless it's to the voices in her head."

Everyone sniggered, and Quinn snapped her head around to glare at Santana.

By the door Brittany faltered, her face dropping into a look of concern, and slight confusion. "I thought that the Olivia girl… the one who left… the others told me she was the crazy one."

Everyone's eyes flickered to Santana. It was like they had grazed upon her skin and she began feeling like she was all lit up, radiating heat. Brittany was looking at her too. And Quinn, from the other end of the bed.

Santana guessed that the others were leaving it up to her to answer but she couldn't. So, after a beat, Lauren turned to Brittany.

"Pick your topics more carefully, kid. Liv's kind of a sensitive one."

"Oh." Brittany pressed her lips so hard together that the chin on her skin wrinkled. "I'm sorry."

There was a brief pause, during which Santana felt like everyone's thoughts were silently filling the room. She suddenly felt claustrophobic and unfolded her legs off the bed, picking her way across the floor, past Lauren and Mercedes.

"I'm going to the store," she muttered and left them all in her room, with Brittany watching her walk down the hallway.

She signed out at the office and chatted briefly with the new assistant who was manning the desk. Her name tag said 'Tory' and her nose was pushed up like a pug's, accentuated by a nose ring.

As Santana's solitary footsteps beat against the pavement she realised that it was her first trip alone to the store down the road. Ninth graders were only permitted to go in groups of two or more- and only before 5 p.m. Tenth graders were allowed to go alone until 5:30 p.m.

The trees had grown slightly over the break and that the chiropractor's office had gotten a different coloured sign, but it was still the same road. She'd walked down it a million times but this time felt different.

She dropped onto the bench across the road from the store and pulled her phone out of her bag, scrolling through the familiar sequence of names until she got to 'L'.

Liv.

She pressed dial and held her breath, watching while the call connected. She was waiting for the timer to come up on her screen that indicated someone had picked up.

It came quickly- sooner than Santana expected.

Her voice was the same, which seemed odd because so much had changed.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Santana said, hearing movement on the other end of the line.

"What's up?" Liv asked- her voice clipped like she was impatient.

"Nothing. It's just… First day back and all that."

"Oh yeah. I forgot." She sounded hollow, disinterested.

"I'm sitting on our bench across the road from the Pop-Inn."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

There was more clattering.

"Hey, Santana. I'm gonna have to go, okay? But I'll call you back tonight alright? Before lights out at 9."

"Tenth graders get lights out at 9:45," Santana reminded her.

"Oh?" Liv laughed. "Right. Big girls now, I forgot."

They hung up and Santana sat on the bench for a little while longer- watching the minutes on her cell phone screen count closer to 5:30p.m. At 5:26 she got up and walked back down to road to the boarding house.

* * *

><p>The bell for dinner rang as soon as she'd scrawled her name in the 'IN' column of the sign in book. Through the window of the office Miss Pillsbury tutted her and slid the glass back a bit.<p>

"Already cutting it fine on your first day Santana?"

"You've missed me," Santana smiled back.

The dining hall was already crowded and filled with the babble of voices as Santana approached it. It was separated into two parts, not including the kitchen. The first was the living room area- where everyone crowded to hear announcements before dinner. This had several couches- for the 11th graders only- a pool table which was missing chalk and 5 balls, a vending machine and, in the far corner, a piano- which had decorations from last year's formal stacked up on it.

The second part of the dining room was the part with chairs and tables- two rows of 4 tables which housed eight chairs each. Further up the dining room, closer to the kitchen area, were a coffee, tea and hot chocolate machine, as well as a round table upon which all the side foods were set- like salads and breads at dinner, and sandwich making materials at lunch. The kitchen stood directly behind it- its serving bench covered in large dishes with metal spoons. Santana drew in a breath.

Meatballs.

Hung along the wall of the dining room were thirteen school photographs that had been taken annually of the boarding house girls when the school had photo day. Santana knew she would be in the newest one- the farthest up- which had been added over the summer holidays.

"Santana!"

Santana turned to see everyone from her grade sitting bunched around the legs of the pool table. Tina, who had obviously arrived while Santana had been at the store, was waving her hand and beckoning her over, grinning.

She arrived at the small space of floor that Lauren had saved for her and dropped down into it beside Quinn. She swept her eyes over everyone, noticing that Emma and Amy weren't there yet.

"Still unpacking," Lauren whispered when she asked. Santana nodded in response and carried on drawing her eyes down the tenth graders. She caught Sugar's eye who sat beside Rachel and Mercedes and they shared a grin and a wave. Sugar was wearing her leopard print beret which, no doubt, Miss Cowley- the head matron- would halt the whole dinner announcement process to tell her to remove it.

Santana frowned when she got to Rachel who was the last in the line of tenth graders.

"Where's Brittany?" She asked Lauren. She pointed- her face expressionless- up to nearer the front of the dining room where all the ninth graders were sitting. A blond head stuck out from among them.

Brittany was side on to Santana, talking with a brown haired girl and demonstrating something with her hands. Santana watched her throw her head back as she laughed. Then she dropped it back down and nodded at something the brown haired girl said, skittering her eyes across the room.

Before Santana had a chance to look away, Brittany's eyes met her own. They were so blue it was startling. Surprise trilled through her when Brittany's face lit up in a smile and she stretched her arm up in the air, waving. Santana cringed inwardly and shot a glance sideways to see if Quinn had seen.

She hadn't, but Lauren had. She wrinkled her nose up.

"Wow, best buds already huh?"

Santana lifted her hand to her chest and waved half-heartedly back before rolling her eyes to Lauren.

"Couldn't be more wrong. I just feel sort of sorry for her. She just has...no clue."

The dining room grew steadily more crowded and louder, until it was hard to talk to anyone unless they were right beside you. Santana leant back, letting Lauren and Quinn talk past her. Her attention drifted around the room until it was pulled into focus by her phone buzzing against her thigh. She squeezed her hand into the tight denim of her jean shorts to get it out. She had two texts. Puck and Liv.

_Puck: Hey bbe. Town aftr school 2moro?_

Santana clicked out of his text without replying and into Liv's.

_Feels weird not to be there with you. Calling at 9:30. _

Santana blinked at the text and then felt someone shift their weight and press up against her arm.

She glanced up to find Quinn peering over her shoulder at her phone.

Santana switched the screen off and Quinn looked up to meet her eyes.

"Don't pick up her call." Her voice was hard and flat- leaving no room for objection. Santana didn't reply, but they shared one of those looks that said more than words could. Santana was the one to drop her eyes away, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

Then it was like someone had turned down the volume in the room and Santana looked up to see Miss Cowley walking down the aisle between the tables, her eyes drifting over them all in a calculating way. She was a small woman- and reminded Santana of the actress who played Professor Umbridge in Harry Potter with her cardigans and simpering giggle and her permed hair that was so thin the light shone through it.

"Alright, alright. Girls…" She cleared her throat and looked expectantly around, waiting for dead silence.

She got it from the ninth graders first- some even sat up a little straighter and folded their arms like five year olds. Sugar and Mercedes laughter was the last to die, which drew Miss Cowley's attention, sure enough, to Sugar's beret. She raised her eye brows and mimed taking a hat off her head.

There were scattered giggles as Sugar huffed an audible sigh of irritation and drew it off her head, only to replace it the moment Miss Cowley looked elsewhere.

"Another year, another set of new faces. Welcome to 2009 at Alexandra Academy Boarding Facility. And, to all those familiar faces, welcome back. Of course, there will be plenty of time to catch up and get to know one another, but for now there are a few administration things to cover…"

Santana knew by now how to gloss over while Cowley gave her daily announcements speech. She tipped her head back and squinted her eyes over the wooden boards of the ceiling until she found the familiar knot that was shaped like a dragon.

It was only when everyone suddenly surged up to their feet that she blinked back to reality. Quinn and Lauren were standing up waiting for her.

As they walked past all the ninth graders lining up at the back Santana spotted Brittany standing amongst them. Not knowing what possessed her, she left Lauren and Quinn and veered in between the tables to stand in front of the ninth graders, ignoring their curious stares and focusing on Brittany.

"Tenth graders stand up in second position," she said, jerking her head to where Rachel, Tina and the others were standing.

Brittany frowned up the line.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Will I- will I get in trouble if I stay here?"

Santana paused, genuinely stumped at the answer. "I- um- I don't see why you would, no."

Brittany nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright, well I think I'm going to stay here."

Santana looked at her and noticed that there was a light smatter of freckles across the tops of her cheeks. They could have been covered by foundation but Brittany wasn't wearing any. Santana liked that she let them show.

She realised she was staring and turned her eyes down to their feet, picking up the thread of their conversation with a shrug.

"Alright then, suit yourself."

When she arrived back at the tenth grade place in the line everyone was looking at her with identically raised eyebrows.

Merging already, Santana thought, rolling her eyes at them.

"Shut up all of you. She's not that bad."

"No, no she's actually really nice," Mercedes agreed.

"That's not why it's weird," Lauren carried on. "You're being nice to someone who wears ducky sweaters and probably has never said a bad word to anyone in her life."

Santana glanced over at Brittany again and saw that she was indeed wearing a blue pull over sweater with a duck on the front.

"Not exactly best friend for Santana material," Quinn said softly, flicking her eyes down the line to look at Brittany as well. "We could fuck with her head though, I'm sure. Amy and Emma would be up for it, they think she's hilarious."

"Ah Q, stepping up into the Alpha position of head-fuckery this year are we?" Lauren cocked her head, "here was me thinking it would be Santana who took up Liv's mantel."

"I wish neither of you would," Rachel said, turning to face them solemnly. "Last year was quite enough to last for a long time. And the poor girl, we can't mess her up more than she already has been. She obviously had no one to nurture and care for her by the state of her music taste."

Mercedes snorted and turned away, leading them up the gap that had been formed in the line as they'd been talking.

"Guurrl," Lauren shook her head at Rachel and moved past her to cut ahead in the line. Rachel's incredulity at their negative reactions to her comment had left her standing still, blinking and calling  
>"What? What?" as they all followed Lauren and cut ahead of her.<p>

* * *

><p>The tenth grade bathroom was nicer than the ninth grade one- with four showers on one wall and four stalls on the other. The room was divided by an island of basins and mirrors.<p>

Santana made her first shower long and leisurely, soaking her tensed muscles under the hot stream.

She was walking back down the hall way in her towel, with her shampoo and conditioner and body wash bottles cluttered in her arms, when she noticed that Brittany's door was half open. Santana paused and craned her neck to see through the gap, curious to see if Brittany's decorative tastes were similar to her fashion sense.

She hadn't expected any one to be inside, but Brittany was standing on her bed, in only a long, loose t-shirt and pink briefs. She had her back to the door and her arms above her head, arranging pictures on her wall. Santana could hear the head phones in her ears buzzing and Brittany was humming along, swaying her hips to and fro.

Santana noticed that Brittany's long legs which weren't as lanky as she'd first thought. They were shapelier, muscular.

Her bed quilt was flowery, and she had a collection of soft toys cradled on top her pillow, which Santana guessed had once been arranged neatly, but Brittany's shifting weight on the bed had caused them to tip in all directions.

The wall that Brittany was working on was already half scattered with photos and magazine cut outs. She had a Zac Efron picture in one corner and below it, a bright orange poster with a black figure and a white swirl on it. It read, 'JAMES STEWART. KIM NOVAK. In Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece 'VERTIGO'.'

Covering the rest of the wall were photos of people and landscapes. Santana recognised Brittany in some of them- and even spotted a physical copy of the profile picture she'd used on Facebook.

"Take me down just like a Domino...hmm, hmm, hmm, yeah," Brittany sang, wiggling her hips and bouncing slightly as she pinned another photo up. One of her soft toys- a purple gorilla, toppled off her bed and onto the floor. Brittany didn't notice. She kept on dancing.

Smiling, Santana left Brittany to it and continued on down the hall to her room. She slid her door shut and was about to drop her towel when, with a start, she noticed someone sitting on her bed.

"Um. Hi," she said, frowning.

Quinn smiled at her lazily and stood up, moving around Santana to the door.

"I'll let you get changed. I was just waiting to see if she was going to call you."

Both of their eyes went to the top of Santana's desk- where her phone was sitting.

"And did she?" When their eyes met, Santana could see that Quinn had caught the challenge in her voice.

"No."

"Alright. Well I can take it from here."

Quinn's face lost all its confidence.

"Please," she said softly, taking a step forward to Santana. "Please don't pick up if she calls."

Santana took a breath, held onto it and then let it sneak between her teeth.

"I've to get changed."

When Quinn left Santana flicked the lock on her door and sunk onto her bed. The drops of water snuck down from her hair and traced an icy path down her skin under the towel so that shivers kept spasming through her.

Finally, she stood up and got dressed, winding the towel around her head and sinking down into her bed.

She looked up at her walls- which were only dotted with pins and no pictures. Apart from her Rastafarian limited addition print which was still rolled up on her desk, Santana didn't have any pictures she wanted to put up there. She'd left the framed one of her and Puck on her desk at home and all the other goofball ones they'd taken since they'd been dating were on her phone. Santana's favourite was the one of him wearing her Gucci glasses and pouting with his hips cocked to one side. He would kill her if she put that on her wall.

The thought of him made her sit up and lean across the small gap between her bed and her chair to get her phone. The gap was wider than she had anticipated and she ended up halfway out of her bed anyway.

Once she had a hold of it and had settled back into her bed, she clicked her screen on and looked at the time. 9:15 p.m.

She scrolled to Puck's number and called him.

"Hey babe." The sound of his voice conjured up the memory of his deodorant for some reason. Santana cuddled further down in her bed, missing real version of the scent.

"Hey." She reached down to fiddle with the seam on her blanket. She could hear laughter and shouting in the background- like a male version of what he must have been able to hear through hers.

"You all settled in?" He asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. Are you?"

"Eh. Haven't been bothered with unpacking so I might just be sleeping on my plain old mattress tonight."

"You're so useless," Santana snorted.

"That's not what you were saying last time I saw you…" His voice had dropped a notch, huskily. Santana could hear the echo of cat calling and 'ooohhh-ing'.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have I interrupted your reunions with one another's butts?" She snapped. "I guess you all do need to get-ahem- _re-acquainted." _

"Oh yeah? And what about you girls?" Puck retorted, quick as lightening. "Has new girl converted anyone with her pussy eating abilities yet?"

Santana rolled her eyes.

"Stop being so gross. I'm going to go."

"Aw babe. Don't be like that."

"No, I'm tired."

"Alright, well are we hanging out in town tomorrow after school?"

Santana told him yes and they hung up. Then she unwound the towel from her hair and, not bothered to hang it up on the railing beside her bed, dropped it on the floor.

She set the alarm on her phone for 7:00 a.m, slipped it under her pillow and then switched her light off so that she was lying in the dark. With its blank press all around her Santana let her mind wander.

It found Brittany.

Santana felt sorry for her, and she didn't even know why. All the humming and dancing on her bed meant that she clearly wasn't sad. But something about her, something about the expressions that crossed her face and those damn freckles that made her look 5 years old made Santana feel an aching sympathy. She wanted to bundle Brittany up in the red cart she used to use to pull her toys around and make sure no one hurt her.

Wow, okay. That was a weird thought, Santana admitted to herself.

That was the last thing she remembered thinking until she was blinking torch light out of her eyes from the night matrons routine check.

When the matron slid her door closed Santana sat up slightly and tried to orientate herself. All the noises of activity in the hall way she'd heard before she'd fallen asleep were gone, replaced by stillness and the wind outside her window.

"Crap," Santana muttered, shoving her hand under her pillow and pulling out her phone.

The screen light was blinding and she had to pull it away from her face for a moment, blinking rapidly to clear her sight.

It was 9:55 p.m. and there were no missed calls from Liv. Instead, she had a text from a random number:

_Hi. It's Brittany. I got ur number off Rachel because I wanted to tell u that I think u dropped ur shampoo outside my room. I asked everyone but it was no one elses so I guess it must be urs but when I tried giving it back to u ur door was locked so I think u r asleep. If u r, sorry if this woke u up and I'll look after ur shampoo till tomorrow morning. Nite nite, sleep well. _

Santana blinked at the text, rereading it twice before clicking off her screen and turning her eyes back up to the ceiling.

She had hoped sleep would have just been waiting like a blanket at the end of her bed that she could just tug back up around her shoulders. But it didn't come back for a long time.

She had the uncomfortable twist of anticipation in her stomach and she couldn't figure out exactly why.

Her first day of school tomorrow. That's what it had to be, Santana decided, because getting back a stupid shampoo bottle shouldn't do that to the nerves of a sane person.

But then, a sane person also didn't close their eyes and see a girl who danced on her bed in her underwear and who included Zac Efron and Alfred Hitchcock in the same stretch of wall space.


	3. Impending

**A/N: Thank you for your patience and interest. Here is chapter 2. Enjoy! **

**Oh and thanks to my beta again- RaWe :) **

**aaaannndd... go check out my Tumblr ( lumosknoxobliviate . tumblr . com ) where you can ask me stuffs and stuff and stuff. **

**Ch 2: Impending**

Santana woke up to banging on her door and "get up bitch!"

Groaning, she rolled over and felt the seize of a crick in her neck. Her pillow and blankets were on the floor and the mattress- too short for the base- had scooted down the bed so that Santana's head had been angled into the gap it had left.

She had a pounding headache and a dry mouth. And the banging just would not stop.

"Shut up. Shut up," She groaned, groping for her pillow on the floor and flinging it at the door.

A moment later, after more banging, the lock jimmied open by itself and the door rattled sideways- revealing Lauren and Sugar- already dressed in their school uniforms. They both laughed at the sight of her.

"Out." She croaked, waving her hands.

"Na-uh, the breakfast fairy sent us to tell you that there's almost no brown bread left so you better get your ass into the dining room now." Lauren leaned against the door frame and smirked down at her.

"Oh, and," Sugar poked her head in around Lauren. "Seeing as you weren't at breakfast with the rest of us you automatically volunteered yourself to take the new girl into town this afternoon."

"What?" Santana snapped her head up.

"I believe she needs washing powder," Lauren said nonchalantly.

"I hate you," Santana muttered, glaring with her still sleep blurred eyes at Lauren.

"Up," Lauren replied, stepping back and sliding Santana's door closed.

Santana dropped back on her bed and arched her neck around, trying to relieve the stiffness. Patting the mattress above her head, Santana located her phone and switched the screen on, frowning at the little alarm icon that was still in the right hand corner. It was 7.30 and she'd set her alarm for 7…

...p.m.

"Goddamn it," Santana sighed, abandoning the phone back onto her bed and leaning over to bundle her blankets and pillow up off the floor. She clattered open the drawers under her bed where she'd stuffed her clothes the day before and pulled out some sweats and an old zip up hoody. Avoiding the mirror on the outside of her closet door, she merely raked her hands through her hair, notching the hair tie off her wrist and pulling it around to secure a messy bun on the top of her head.

She was halfway down the hallway when Rachel's head popped out of her room with all the vigour of a meerkat. When she took in Santana's appearance her eyes narrowed.

"You're going to miss breakfast," she said.

Santana walked right on past her, calling back, "I'm on my way there now."

"Uh...Santana aren't you forgetting something?"

"Nope!" Santana had to raise her voice because she was already near the end of the hallway.

"Your _uniform!" _Rachel called back condescendingly. Santana stopped and looked down at herself.

"Christ," she muttered, wheeling around and striding back to her room- looking pointedly away from Rachel.

When Santana pulled open her closet door she thanked Past-Santana profusely for having the presence of mind to put her uniform blouses on hangers and fold her skirts neatly under them. Even her blazer looked fresh and pressed- though she had no recollection of it having seen the outside of her suitcase since the last day of ninth grade. Her mother, she concluded, must have snooped through her suitcases for her uniform.

Santana bumbled her still sleepy limbs into her uniform and then headed down the hallway for the second time. Rachel, she was relieved to note, did not feel the need to stick her head out again.

The dining room was mostly empty by the time Santana arrived. The matron- another new one whom Santana didn't recognise- was on the couch by the door with the breakfast list of names on her lap.

"Santana Lopez?" She snapped, flapping through the list to get to 'L'. "You're the last one. I was just about to come and see…"

"Here now, aren't I?" Santana flipped her a dismissive shrug and headed up to the front table by the kitchen. Lauren had been right- all the brown bread had been taken and Santana refused to eat white. The table was littered with empty bread bags and dirty knives and crumbs and the fruit bowl was empty bar a few oranges and bruised looking apples. Santana took one of the oranges and headed over to the coffee machine.

When she turned away from it, balancing the steaming cup, she flickered her eyes over the tables that still contained people- scanning to see if there were any tenth graders still left there.

Brittany waved to her from a table near the middle. Santana pushed her lips against one another and sighed. At least she had coffee.

"Hi," Brittany said breathlessly when Santana sat down.

Santana nodded at her and took a long sip.

"I have your shampoo. Did you get my text?"

Santana nodded again and then swallowed, letting out a little gasp as the hot liquid coated her dry throat.

"Good. Well I've finished my toast now, so I'll wait for you to finish your coffee and your orange and then you can come and get it."

Santana flicked her eyes up to Brittany.

"Please say that you're not another Rachel Berry in training?"

Brittany's forehead furrowed and her top lip curled up slightly in confusion. "I don't...No," She shook her head. "I don't think you can train to be someone. I'm just...Brittany."

"Yeah? Well," Santana swallowed another sip of coffee, "you're pushy like Berry."

"I- I am? About what? The shampoo? I only thought you'd want it back because your hair's nice so you obviously take good care of it."

"It's just shampoo. No biggie," Santana shrugged. She had to fight the urge to pat her hair down.

"Yeah. My Dad says that things like shampoo are a figment of people's imagination- that capitalism has convinced us that we need useless products like that when really, we don't. Our hair has natural oils to keep it healthy."

Santana blinked up at her. "You don't...You don't use shampoo?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.

The tips of Brittany's ears pinked and it spread like a storm down onto the tops of her cheeks.  
>"I- I do use shampoo," she stuttered. "It's just what my Dad says but he uses shampoo too, don't worry. My whole family does. Even my cat and my dog."<p>

Santana felt her cheeks lift up in a grin. "It's...it's okay, Britt, I get it. I get it."

Brittany's face lit up. "You're the first person here to call me Britt."

Santana hadn't even noticed. "Oh, I… is that not…"

"No," Brittany shook her head. "I like it. I'm glad you did."

"Alright," Santana said slowly, turning back down to her coffee.

They were silent for a moment and then Brittany asked Santana what people shortened her name to.

"They don't," she said shortly, shrugging.

"Oh," Brittany faltered. "Okay, that's okay. So, you're coming with me to town today right?"

"Well I was told I _volunteered_ so I guess so, yeah."

Brittany's silence made Santana look up. She was drawing her index finger through the breadcrumbs on the plate in front of her, staring down at it hard. Santana felt a twinge of guilt.

"Sorry. I just had a crappy sleep and a rude wake up call. And I'm not a morning person to begin with so…"

Brittany nodded. "That's okay."

"Good," Santana said, still eyeing her warily. "So I'll meet you at the Silver Road gate after school. The- you know where that is right?"

"Uh-huh. But don't we have to…"

"Sign out of the boarding house," Santana finished, shaking her head at her slowness. "Yeah, crap. I keep forgetting these stupid rules. Alright. I'll meet you in the office at 3:30."

* * *

><p>The first day of a new year at school was always the same. Pointless. They all spent the morning in home room, and then divided their day amongst their other subjects.<p>

They only got around half an hour in each class and in every single one of them, without fail, there would be name games. There was only one upside to this ordeal- and that was the opportunity to assess who was going to be in your classes. Who you'd sit with and who you'd hate.

So far, Santana had the seating in four out of her seven classes worked out nicely. In English, she had Quinn and Amy and Emma- straightforward enough. In Algebra II she had Mercedes, Becky and Sugar. History was Lauren, Tina and Rachel, and Biology was Lauren, Tina and Quinn. She just had Spanish, Political Science and P.E to go.

P.E was next up on her timetable. Her schedule put her class in the pool room for the first few weeks of rotation.

It was an indoor pool- housed in a large, metallic building that had been built right beside the school's main entrance. Santana walked through the main lobby, dodging around a group of chattering little kids who'd obviously come down from the local elementary school to use Alexandra's outdoor pool.

It took two steps for the simmering heat and smell of chlorine to crest over her. It was clean and damp and Santana had always been oddly fond of the smell of it. But the heat was an entirely different matter. It was like her blazer had shrunken two sizes, clutching at her arms and sides tightly. Beneath it, her blouse was already moulded to her lower back by sweat.

A few of her classmates were already scattered across the blue and white metal picnic benches that ran up one side of the pool- near the changing rooms. Santana recognised a few of them from last year, but no one she was friendly enough to sit with.

She approached a vacant bench and stepped up to sit on the table top, resting her bag between her feet on the bench below. Once she had settled she trained her eyes on the water- which was rippling and slapping gently against the sides of the pool- and looked down to the black lane lines warping at the bottom.

Santana felt like taking a running jump- plunging, plunging and pushing her belly down against the slippery concrete base and then letting the water lift her up again. She knew it wouldn't be as cold as she imagined. And it would make her make-up run. And her class mates would think she was bat-shit crazy. But Santana really, _really _just wanted to throw herself in- uniform and all- and not give a crap what anyone thought.

The wood of the bench juddered under Santana's feet as it took another person's weight and Santana looked up to see Brittany stepping easily up to sit beside her on the table top.

"Hi."

Brittany's smile was wide and bright and Santana could see her eyes reflecting the wavering water, though she couldn't tell the colors of the two apart. It was slightly disconcerting.

Brittany's hands were clasped around the binder she had sitting on her lap and Santana was able to get a good look at them. The thought occurred to her that this was the first time she'd really taken anything of Brittany in, and she suddenly became conscious of the 'getting to know one another' process. It came with its own kind of anxiety, its own kind of excitement. Your world had to edge a little wider to make room for this new person.

It was an odd thought to have and Santana blamed the heat.

Brittany's fingers were long and thin, stretched out at odd angles- almost like spider legs- to secure her binder in place. The skin on the backs of her hands was crisscrossed with thousands of tiny, tiny lines and the same light smatter of freckles that were on her cheeks were on her knuckles as well. Spaced out like connect the dots.

"Have you had a good day?" Brittany asked.

"I'll be glad when it's over," Santana shrugged. "Have you?"

"Well, I keep getting lost. But I've made friends who have helped me out so it's okay. I'm enjoying it. I like getting to know people and stuff. Everything's so new and interesting."

Santana watched as Brittany drew in a deep breath and craned her head up to the ceiling, looking at the beams and the banners hanging from them that had Alexandra's crest. She was so freaking cheerful, Santana thought. It almost made the backs of her eyes ache- like she was looking directly at the sun.

"Where do you need to go in town today?" She asked.

"Well, I need washing powder, socks," Brittany ticked off on her fingers like she'd done when she'd been counting Santana's bags, "hair ties and cat food. You can get all those at the supermarket, right?"

"Cat food? Why do you need cat food?"

Brittany blinked at her like she was silly for asking. "To send to my cat. He'll think he has a secret admirer."

Santana was slow to laugh, wondering how far Brittany's sarcasm extended until it became craziness.

"Rrrright. Well. I have to meet my boyfriend too so is it alright if I just show you where the supermarket is and then we can meet back up when it's time to walk home?"

Brittany nodded down at her lap. She looked uneasy but Santana, feeling heartless, ignored it and focused on the water again. The heat was becoming overly irritating and the air was too thick and muggy. It was like trying to breathe with your head inside a dryer.

"Alright girls," A woman with small, close together eyes and short, purple/brown hair (Santana guessed that the label on the dye bottle had probably said 'plum') was walking briskly towards them. Santana recognised her as Miss Hawkins, the deputy head of the P.E department.

She swept her eyes over them, counting.

"Twenty two...twenty two…" She dropped her eyes down to her clip board and ran her index finger along it. "There's twenty three on this list and only twenty two of you here. No one has been signed as absent." She frowned and then proceeded to call out their names in a low monotone voice, stabbing her finger against the clipboard when they answered. When she was done she flapped the paper over and sighed at the next sheet.

"Right...you have to...In pairs...yes, with the person beside you. Say your name, your favourite sport and a goal that you hope to achieve in the class by the end of the year."

As though Miss Hawkins had pressed an unmute button, everyone began talking at once- until their laughter and words became on indistinct babble, punctuated by the high pitch flurry of laughter, or a squeal.

Santana stayed still until she saw Brittany's knees pivot to face her. Then she looked up into an encouraging smile.

"You wanna go first? Name, favourite sport and a goal for P.E this year."

"Right. Yeah, er… S-santana Lopez. But… I guess you knew that."

Brittany nodded patiently.

"Favourite sport is...dodge ball, I guess." Shit, she hadn't played sports since before she came to Alexandra Academy. But dodge ball had been her favourite in the P.E rotation last year. Mostly because she shared a class with Rachel and always made sure they were on opposite teams.

"And goal?" Brittany prompted. Santana turned and looked out the windows on the opposite side of the pool. They were reflecting the water so brightly that Santana could hardly see out of them, like the way Brittany's eyes had looked.

"Goal. How about… Try and get at least one sick note a week from the matrons for this stupid class."

Brittany laughed at this, and Santana turned away from the window to watch her. The sound flew from her mouth and then she pressed her lips together. As they quivered against more laughter, Santana noticed the light sheen of pink lip gloss across them.

Santana blinked slowly and then looked away, brushing the damp clinging hair off her forehead and leaning back right back on the bench, propping herself up with her elbows. She was beginning to feel sick from the heat.

"Your turn," she mumbled.

"I'm Brittany Susan Pierce," Brittany struck up brightly, "and my favourite sport is dancing and my goal for this year in P.E is to…" She pointed and Santana had to flop her chin forwards onto her chest to see, "swim the whole length of the pool in one breath."

Santana looked up and down the pool, calculating its length. She was too tired to laugh, but she felt she had to point out the ridiculousness.

"You'd get half way there and your lungs would give out."

Brittany shrugged. "I won't know until I try. It's a goal."

"It's a death wish," Santana corrected.

Miss Hawkins blew her whistle.

"Alright. Now. I hope you were listening to your partner because you're now going to introduce them to the class. And we'll start with…" Miss Hawkins drew her eyes along the benches. They faltered on Brittany and Santana.

"You."

"Me?" Brittany repeated dumbly. The tips of her ears had gone red again.

"This is...this is…" She looked from the rest of the class to Miss Hawkins to Santana and back again like she didn't know who she was supposed to be addressing. She settled for Miss Hawkins.

"This is Santana Lopez. Her favourite sport is dodge ball and her goal for this year is to get at least one sick note a week for this class."

Brittany turned to Santana so quickly that her ponytail swung around and whipped her face. She was smiling in pride at her own memory, completely oblivious to Miss Hawkins staring and the rest of the class simpering in awkward giggles. Santana rolled her eyes and sat up, leaning around Brittany to Miss Hawkins to do damage control.

When the bell rang, Santana bundled up all the course sheets Miss Hawkins had given them and stuffed them roughly inside her bag. Then she shouldered it and got down off the bench, feeling frumpy and gross. The tightness of the blazer was making her upper arms throb.

"Where's your next class?" She asked Brittany as they headed for the doors.

Brittany put her hand in her blazer pocket and pulled out her schedule.

"It's in G2," She read. Then, she lifted her eyes up and said brightly, "By the way, Quinn's in my class Geography class. And Amy. And Emma. But they don't sit by me. They sit with each other and I sit next to a girl called Hester. She has see-through eyebrows and she's Jewish and she plays the violin and she's allergic to spinach. Or wait… maybe she loves spinach." Brittany waved her hand. "I can't remember that part."

"Another name game?" Santana asked, grinning.

Brittany pressed her lips together and flicked her eyes sideways, all coy.

"Maaaybe," she said. And there was laughter in her voice.

Something tugged inside Santana. Like the jerk of a string tied around her insides- somewhere deep behind everything.

When Brittany opened the door and the cold air hit Santana's face, it was like breathing for the first time. Or at least what she thought that would feel like.

* * *

><p>Waiting in the boarding house foyer for Brittany to come back from school served as Santana's own personal form of torture. She sat slumped on the couches wondering how on earth she'd made it through the day without disconnecting someone's head from their body- especially seeing as after the P.E session, her blazer had seemed to store all the heat and she still hadn't fully cooled down. She was almost gagging to take it off but she guessed she probably had sweat patches the size of continents.<p>

She'd have to keep Puck three feet away at all times at this rate. And she wasn't even allowed to change into normal clothes because of the stupid frigging boarding house rules which prohibited wearing anything but your uniform in public places. It was like they expected the students' uniforms to have some sort of Jiminy Cricket influence over what they did.

To make matters worse, it seemed that every tenth grader was arriving back from school before Brittany. And every single one of them laughed at the sight of Santana on that couch.

Lauren and Sugar were particularly bad, lingering around and cracking jokes until Santana gave them the fingers, cussed loudly in Spanish and promptly got told off by Miss Cowley who'd heard from behind the front desk. This made Lauren and Sugar slink off, but Santana could hear them giggling right the way up the stairs into their dorm.

When she caught sight of Quinn waiting outside the office for the automatic doors to respond, Santana rolled her eyes and blew a gush of air upwards onto her face. This would be _fun. _

Quinn got through the doors and approached the front desk with three girls trailing behind her. Santana vaguely recognised them from the Alexandra Academy cheerleading squad that Quinn had joined at the end of last year- much to Liv's disgust.

Santana made sure to never let on that she'd been asked to join too.

From her place behind them on the couches Santana trailed her eyes over the three girls, lingering on the special jackets that they were allowed to wear in place of the school blazers. They were the only team allowed to wear anything other than the uniform, which Santana thought was kind of hilarious because Alexandra didn't even have a football team for them to cheer. And Santana had never heard of them cheering for any team it _did_ have.

At best, the Cheerios, as they were known, cheered on their brother school- Andrews Academy- once in a while. But mostly they just competed in dancing competitions, spending half the school budget in the process.

The jackets were cool, Santana had to admit _that_. She'd always thought so.

Quinn finished signing the three Cheerios into the guest book and had begun to lead them through the double doors to the dining room- the only place in the boarding house that the students who lived close enough to the school to attend it without boarding, were allowed.

They were halfway across the foyer when Quinn turned her head seemingly unprovoked in Santana's direction. It happened too quickly for Santana to avert her eyes and she was able to watch the slow, smug smile that slung itself onto Quinn's face.

As Quinn changed course and headed for Santana's couch, the three Cheerios fell in behind her obediently and Santana felt like she was caught in the heady beam of headlights. She fought the impulse to roll her eyes. Too often this place reminded her of _Mean Girls_. Far too often.

"Hi Santana," Quinn said. Every syllable sounded measured. Santana just looked at her.

"I heard about your predicament. Having to play tour guide," Quinn continued after she realized Santana was going to make no response. She let out a laugh- if that was what you could call the empty noise- and then flicked her ponytail.

"It's not a predicament," Santana shrugged. "I was going to town to see Puck anyway. But ah, have fun with your chocolate milk and cookies."

Something flashed in Quinn's gaze- violent, like glass breaking. It was so fleeting that Santana wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been staring her full in the face. By the time Quinn spoke again, the look was gone and her features were steel.

"Where are you going to drop off your extra baggage while you're with him?"

"Oh, phew. _I don't know," _Santana said in mock concern. Then she brightened her face with an idea. "Hey, I know. Maybe you could come carry it for me? Seeing as it doesn't look like you've got many better things to do?"

Quinn threw her head back- and there, again, was the laughter. But when she dropped it back down, there was no amusement anywhere.

"You know, Santana, you could try and get into the Cheerios again. Olivia is _gone. _You don't have to be a dumb whore like her any…"

Anger had always been something that Santana struggled with. She had it under control most of the time. At least, she was better than when she was little and had thrown a chair at a boy who'd pulled hers out from underneath her. But there were certain times, certain things, that edged beneath her skin so violently she actually felt physical pain in trying to hold it all back.

She shot up off the couch- and her sudden, violent movement made Quinn's words falter. She stepped back in surprise.

Santana knew she should have cared that the office was filled with people trailing through from school and that Miss Beiste, Miss Pillsbury _and _Miss Cowley were all stationed behind the desk.

But she didn't.

The only thing she was processing was where and how hard to hit Quinn Fabray.

Santana took two menacing steps forward and then she was touched on the upper arm so lightly that she thought she could have imagined it. She was halfway through ignoring it when a voice spoke too. Just as light.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

Quinn and the three Cheerios all looked over at the same time and Santana was only half a beat behind them.

Brittany was standing beside her, quite close. She had her bag hugged to the front of her chest. Santana noticed that the tips of her ears were still red. Were they always that way?

"Hi," she said. And with that word all the anger seemed to rush out of her until she was just all hot and constricted in her blazer, deflated like a balloon.

Quinn laughed again.

"Bye Santana," she said faintly, smirking like she'd won.

Until.

"Hey Quinn." Brittany's voice had more strength than Santana had heard it possess before.

Quinn had her back to them, but she stopped and Santana knew she was listening. Brittany didn't seem fazed, she carried on speaking, notching her voice higher so that it carried around the office.

"Just thought I'd give you a heads up that I was asked to join the Cheerios today. And I also got asked to run the next practise and lay down a routine for our next competition so just letting you know that will be this Thursday after school in the gym."

It was Santana's single greatest regret that she could not see Quinn's face. She was sure her expression would have been beautiful enough to rival pyramids and glaziers and grand canyons.

Quinn didn't turn around. She just walked- her posture eerily erect- down the foyer and out the double doors. Her three deserted minions were still staring at Brittany and one of them, a girl with platinum hair and far too much eyeliner, stepped forwards slightly. Her features brightened in recognition.

"You're the girl that Coach stopped me in the hall way to tell me about. She kept going on about how there was a new girl transferring who could dance better than an African witch doctor and who she'd sell her sweat glands all over again to get her on the squad. You're her, right?"

Brittany looked mildly alarmed. "I- I think that's me. Yeah…" She hugged her bag harder against her chest and Santana felt that tug again. The strings tied up in her.

When the Cheerios had headed out into the dining room, whispering with their heads close together, Santana turned to Brittany for the first time since she'd interrupted them.

"Should we go?" Brittany asked.

Santana blinked at her, feeling stranger than ever. She noticed that Brittany had a swipe of paint in the lapel of her blazer and for some reason, it made Santana lose her breath.

The strings were knotting tighter. Tugging more insistently.

Santana dropped her eyes and turned away. She headed for the front desk, pushing roughly through the crowd of ninth graders and snatching up the sign out book and a pen.

She scrawled hers and Brittany's names in the 'out' column and walked out of the boarding house without waiting for Brittany to follow her.

She heard nothing but herself moving for about 20 yards and then the sounds of clattering footsteps and the jingling of zips began gaining on her.

Brittany appeared beside her, puffing.

"You forgot your wallet and your phone," she said, holding them out to Santana. "And your boyfriend called and asked where you were and I said we weren't going to be long but I didn't know where you…"

Brittany stopped talking when Santana took her things out of her hands and lengthened her stride, getting ahead again.

Brittany kept up easily.

How could Santana have forgotten; the legs.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing."

"You're grumpy."

"You don't know me well enough to know when I'm grumpy."

In spite of Santana's assholery, the bright, inquisitive tone of Brittany's voice didn't die.

"Don't you get grumpy the same way as other people?"

Santana huffed a sigh. "Can we just, not talk. For a while?"

Brittany fell quiet and Santana didn't look to see how she'd taken the words.

They didn't speak again until they reached the supermarket. They paused out the front, by the shopping cart bays.

"I'll just be in the mall around the corner," Santana said. "It has a food court on the third level and that's where I'm meeting Puck. You can come find me or just text when you're done. Then I guess we can just go back."

She watched Brittany while she spoke. And Brittany watched her shoes.

"Okay?" Santana prompted.

Brittany nodded at her shoes.

Santana rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, getting away from Brittany before she felt guilty. Before she cared too much.

* * *

><p>Puck was glad to see her. And that was the understatement of the year.<p>

He'd squashed her into the very corner of their booth, his head bent so close that Santana could hardly see his features properly.

"Just, like...five minutes...c'mon no one will know."

Santana pulled still further away and frowned at him.

"No, you're right. No one will notice a dude wearing an Andrews' uniform with a Mohawk going into the girls' bathroom. No one at all."

"I want you," he said in reply. And the arm that was snaked around the top of the booth reached down, tugging at her shoulders.

Santana leaned away to take a pull on the straw of her frozen coke. She heard Puck sigh behind her and when she looked she saw he'd slumped back grumpily onto his side of the booth.

"Don't be a baby." She put a hand on his thigh, and edged it up a little higher for good measure. The bored, sullen look on his face didn't flicker and Santana had the beginnings of panic.

"Are you pissed?" She frowned.

"Yep."

"_Why?" _

"Dunno. Maybe coz I haven't seen you in like…"

"A week," Santana said flatly. Their hometowns were an hour apart and she'd driven there to stay with for the weekend.

"Yeah. So? I just care about you that's all and I wanna...you know… I miss you."

"_Miss me?_" Santana raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Yeah," Puck confirmed stubbornly.

"Well I'm here now so you don't have to miss me."

"Yeah but I swear I talk more to the other girls than I do to you. You're so hot and cold babe," he said, leaning in and trying to nuzzle her again. She jerked away again.

"_What_ other girls?" Puck, realizing his mistake, groaned.

"Chill babe. Just the ones at Alexandra. Lauren and Sugar and Mercedes and that. Quinn...You know…"

"Not Quinn," Santana said sharply.

"What's she done?" Puck asked, rolling his eyes.

"She's a bitch."

"Yeah but so are you."

"Yeah I know but she's been a _real_ bitch since we got back. She shoves Liv in my face every five minutes."

Puck wasn't looking at her, but Santana knew that he was thinking about what she'd said.

"She's just…" He sighed and shook his head. "Quinn's still not over it. And I think it's hard for her to trus-"

"_Excuse me? _Since when were you an expert on her?"

Puck rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you know what I mean…"

"No," Santana said, her pulse beating heavily through her, urging her anger on. She shook her head violently and slid back away from him in the booth. "No I don't know what you mean."

"She's just...ah…" He drew a hand down his face, warping his skin momentarily away from his eyeballs. "She's had it rougher than you think."

"Puck, what the _hell _are you talking about?"

"Santana, just...jesus christ don't freak out it's just…"

"No. No, you know what," Santana's voice was raised and carrying and she stood up out of the booth, glaring down at him and gathering up her bag. "You can defend her allll you want but I know her too well to buy her crap. And I don't have to sit here and listen to it."

"Santana…"

"Sort your shit out Puckerman and then come find me."

She turned and began to weave through the tables but his retort carried over them, as clear as though she was still in the booth with his breath funnelling into her ear.

"You're not the only one Liv fucked over."

* * *

><p>Brittany wasn't in the cat food aisle. And that was the only thing Santana could remember her needing to get. She stood there, staring blurrily at the shelves of pet merchandise, trying to contain the lump in her throat.<p>

And then, for what felt like the millionth time that day, Brittany found her.

"Do you need cat food too?"

"I don't have a cat."

"A dog?"

Santana shook her head and watched Brittany scan the aisle in front of them, looking for more clues as to why Santana would be there.

"A...goldfish?"

"I did, but it died because my little cousin tipped coke into its bowl." Brittany looked horrified. "He thought he was giving it a treat," Santana explained.

"It's not much of a treat if it died," Brittany pouted.

"No, it's not."

They both looked at the cat food for a moment longer, until a lady edged her cart up to them impatiently.

"Do you have everything you need?" Santana asked as they walked to the check out. Brittany consulted the basket she had slung from the crook of her elbow.

"I think so, yep."

"Alright."

They went through the check out in silence. And then Santana followed Brittany out of the supermarket, pausing behind her in the entrance so that Brittany could unzip her school bag and put her groceries inside. Once she'd settled it back on her back they started off again.

They walked down the main road and then cut through a well-worn path that had been made across a plantation of shrubs and small trees. It was the short cut back to the boarding house and lead through a small park.

It was shabby- with no paths or well-kept plants. Just that thick, ropy sort of grass that itched if you sat down on it, a few decrepit old trees whose branches hung low- leering like old men and dropping annoyingly sharp leaves. The wooden fences built around it were high- so that people couldn't see into the neighbouring properties and it made the space feel darker and secluded. The fences were mottled with graffiti- some the professional kind that you could never read, and others were just words- _Kevin was here. Your Mom Smells. Let Love In_. Scratched in with the hesitant ink of a ball point pen, or more boldly, with a sharpie.

The park had one bench- set back on the edge of the barked perimeter- just in front of the fence. The bench, in Santana's experience, had always been sort of useless- usually damp or covered with bird crap or a homeless person.

But as she and Brittany walked past it, Santana was surprised to see it had been replaced by a new bench- its wood crisp and yellowy.

The unexpectedness of this made Santana pause and look at it. She'd taken for granted that the old one would always be there. That it would remember when she'd forgotten.

But the new one was sort of nice, in a way.

"We could sit down?" Brittany said Santana's thoughts out loud.

"Okay."

They sat down at the same time and Santana lifted her eyes to the branches above them. She could hear the birds calling- light, intricate sounds that could have been laughter. Or mockery. It would be the last straw if one of them crapped on her.

Brittany was making patterns in the dirt with the very tip of her shoe. Santana noticed her calf muscle- curving out of her leg like a sand dune- twitching as she arced her foot around to give the face she'd drawn a smile.

"How long have you danced?" Santana asked, reminded of Brittany's induction into the Cheerios.

Brittany shrugged. "Since I could walk. I used to waggle everywhere like I had ants in my diapers. That's what Mom says and I know it's true too because they have videos of me chasing our old dog MacGyver and wagging my butt faster than I actually walked."

Santana laughed. "That's cute."

"I also used to run away from bath time and tip my toy basket out and sit naked on my rocking horse with it over my head singing nursery rhymes. But…" Brittany paused. And there those red ears were again. "I just realized that doesn't have much to do with dancing."

Santana was laughing harder. "More with performance in general."

"That's true," Brittany said. And Santana watched her smile at the thought.

They lapsed into silence again, and Santana finally gave up against the heat and the tightness and the irritation. She sat up and tugged roughly at one arm of her blazer- pulling it off as fast as she could.

It was as if she'd shed gravity. She could now feel the breeze- and it swelled up her arms and chest and back- making the places she'd sweated turn cold.

She closed her eyes in relief and tipped her head until it was resting on the back of the bench.

"I don't know why you didn't do that sooner," she heard Brittany say in an amused voice.

"Me neither."

When she opened her eyes up again Brittany was leaning over on the bench, peering at her. Her face was so close that Santana was surprised to see that the freckles she'd once thought were lightly scattered across her cheeks were actually just the ones that stood out. Beneath them was a much fainter, but much more abundant layer- ones that you wouldn't be able to notice unless you got as close as Santana was now.

Santana held her breath and frowned up at Brittany.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you were sleeping," Brittany said, pulling back away slightly but not shifting her gaze from Santana. "You look kind of sad and I thought maybe you were having a bad dream."

Santana shook her head, only managing a soft voice.

"Not a dream."

"Did you have a bad time with your boyfriend today?" Brittany's voice was just as soft, "is that why I found you in the cat food aisle?"

"I was in the cat food aisle looking for you. But, yeah. It was a little bit crap."

"How come?"

Santana turned her eyes towards the grass and the trees and the sunlight. She'd seen this view a million times. It reeked with memories. But it was a new bench. And a new girl with a bright smile. And Santana thought it could be easier to forget.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh." Brittany dropped her eyes to the ground, disheartened. "Was I being Rachel Berry again?"

"No," Santana grinned. "No, I just don't want to talk about it because sitting here like this feels okay. It feels good and I don't want to think about anything that might ruin it."

She turned her eyes to Brittany. "Is that okay?"

Brittany gave her a small smile. "Yeah. That's okay."

"Good."

Santana closed her eyes and tipped her head back on the bench. They had somehow shifted closer together and Santana could feel the warmth of Brittany shimmering all up her right side. Without the blazer on though, the heat was pleasant and comforting.

She could, Santana thought, just drop off to sleep.

But then the bench juddered with movement and Santana cracked her eyes open. Brittany was leaning across the bench again, but this time her head was angled downwards to see through the trees and her eye brows were up.

Santana turned to follow her line of sight.

"What is it?"

"Is that a convenience store?" Brittany pointed through the trees and across the road.

"Uh-huh," Santana said through a yawn.

"Do you want an ice cream?" Brittany's face was bright again.

"No, I'm alright."

"Okay, well I'm going to get one so if you change your mind you can just share mine."

Santana nodded and watched Brittany get up off the bench. She followed her progress through the park for a bit and then dropped her head back against the wood. Her eyelids were heavy and haziness started to swell.

"San! San!"

"Hmm?"

Brittany was standing by the line of trees, her hands cupped around her mouth.

"You can use my bag as a pillow if you want!"

Santana waved her hand to acknowledge that she'd heard. And then, just as she'd resumed her dozing posture, another shout came. One of pure excitement.

"Hey! _San_. I think I've just found you a nickname!"

Santana laughed and waved her hand once again. Then, when Brittany had disappeared through the trees she tipped her head back and grinned skyward.


	4. Long Exposure

**A/N: Here's chapter three. Enjoy. :) **

**Thanks heaps to my awesome beta- RaWe.**

**Ch 3: Long Exposure**

_Outside the bathroom, the party is heaving. Santana's reflection hovers in the mirror and she wonders if she has become as blurry as she looks. She's running cold water out of the tap and onto the inside of her wrist trying to make the world sharper, but it's so cold it makes her skin ache and she still feels hot everywhere else. There are a thousand different tastes inside her mouth. _

_Liv is beside Santana, thickening her eyeliner into flicks out of the corner of her eyes. And Quinn is in the background- Santana can see her slumped over the toilet seat._

_"My parents," she says, looking up from the bowl, shivering violently. "My parents are coming soon. Mom, mymom text." _

_Her makeup has turned into black stains down her face- like some sad water color. And her dress is stained with vomit- right on the pink material covering her heart. _

_Santana pushes herself away from the sink, and doesn't remember to turn off the tap. She thinks about that later, when the three of them are tucked close and sweated together in Quinn's bed. Was it still running? Had she just left it to flood the whole bathroom? _

_She helps Quinn stand, but then she needs to be sick too, so she lets Quinn go and drops to her knees. Nausea curves her face right into the bowl and the small attachable container of toilet cleaner- those ones that clean with every flush- is right up close to her. Its heavy perfume is overwhelming. She's sick again because of it. _

_When she looks up again Quinn is leaning against the door, tugging listlessly at the handle. She's holding her phone- which is flashing with a phone call- and groaning, "Mom's here. We have to go. We have to go." _

_Santana manages to stand but her head is spinning. She watches as Liv pushes off the bathroom sink. She's laughing. Laughing so loudly that it echoes around the room and pulses in Santana's head. _

_Liv bats Quinn's hand away from the door handle and opens it, disappearing outside. Quinn goes next and then Santana. _

_They get through the crowd in the living room by pushing and shoving and the whole time Santana has her eyes on Quinn's shoes. Those silly blue pumps that she took half an hour to pick and now they have dirt and vomit on them and no one even paid any notice to them. _

_Then they get outside and cool air floods to Santana's lungs. She gulps it in __gratefully._ _Quinn's doubled over a flower bed, and Santana can hear her retching and burping but nothing is coming out. _

_Then there are headlights pulling into the drive way and Santana has to squint to see Liv silhouetted in the glare. She's standing in the middle of the drive way as the car approaches. And her head is tipped back to the sky. _

_The car- a big range rover that Santana knows well, stops a couple of yards in front of Liv and the passenger door opens. Quinn's mother comes hurrying out across the lawn to Quinn and her flower bed. _

_Santana stumbles around the brightness of the headlights until she can see Quinn's Dad staring out of the windshield. He's looking straight at Liv and Santana knows why. _

_When Quinn's Dad had dropped them off for the party, Liv had been wearing a plain black top above her black ballerina-esque skirt. But as soon as he'd backed the car out of view Liv had stopped and tugged it off in the middle of the drive way- revealing it's replacement. A fishnet singlet that let you see her read lace bra and the pale expanse of her stomach. The curve of her hips. _

_Santana hovers around the side of the car, looking at Liv too. She's staring straight back through the windscreen at Quinn's Dad, not even squinting at the light trained on her. She has her chin notched up and the strangest smile on her face. _

_After a moment, what feels like a long, long moment to Santana, Liv turns her head and sees Santana. Her smile widens and Santana feels her stomach constrict. She wants to believe it's nausea. But she is not sure. _

_Quinn's Dad doesn't say anything to them when they get into the car- Santana on one side and Liv in the middle. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and keeps staring straight ahead- like Liv is still standing out there in front of him. _

_Quinn and her Mom are approaching. Quinn's eyes are half closed and her Mom has to practically lug her into the car. She slumps in her seat and groans as her Mom slams first her door, and then the front passenger one. _

_The shut doors vacuum pack the car in silence- so that they can't hear the party any more- not the shouting or the laughter or the music or the burst of breaking glass. _

_Once they've backed out of the driveway Quinn's Mom turns around to look into the back seat. _

_"Are you going to be sick Quinn?" She asks. And then she sees Liv's shirt and her eyes bug. _

_"Olivia, where is your shirt? What are you wearing?" _

_Liv doesn't answer; she just tips her head to the side, looks at Santana and laughs. Santana watches her, watches the passing street lights flickering Liv's features back and forth between dark and light. _

_"How drunk are you all?" She's asking. "Santana and Quinn have never been like this before. What did you give them Olivia? You tell me right now, you're a new friend and you haven't earned my trus-oh, heavens-" _

_With another groan, Quinn bends over, lifts a hand to her mouth and vomits into it. _

_"Russel! Russel stop the car. Stop the car!" _

_Quinn's Dad does and the motion jerks Santana sharply against her seat belt. She feels churning in her stomach and she knows what's about to happen. She fumbles for the handle of the door but she can't get at it in time and then she's sick too- all over the window and down the side of the car door. She can feel it on her leg and sinking hot into the heel of her shoe. _

_She wipes her mouth and tries for the handle again, finally catching it and pushing it open. The air is cool on her face and she takes a shuddering breath, leaning as far out of the car as her seat belt will allow. _

_Behind her, she can hear Quinn retching again and again and her Mom muttering wildly and above all of that Liv is laughing. _

_That's all she does, the whole ride home. Even when Quinn's Mom whips around in her seat and snaps at her to stop. Even when Quinn's Dad swears and slams his palm down on the steering wheel. _

_She just laughs. _

* * *

><p>Santana was staring down the face of her first English assignment- an opinion piece on a current event of her choice. It was her fifth time scrolling aimlessly through the CNN website and finding not a single news item that did not make her thud her head on the desk repeatedly. It was all war and recession.<p>

She rocked her chair backwards onto two legs and yawned, arching her back like a cat. She took one final look at her screen and then gave up, picking her phone off her desk and navigating to Lauren's name.

"_News worthy story?" _She typed and pressed send.

A moment later, Lauren replied: "_My face."_

Santana smiled and shook her head, clattering her phone back on the desk. She adjusted her earphones more tightly in her ears just as the song changed and turned the volume up. Kid Cudi was her latest obsession.

Mouthing along and bobbing her head, Santana bent lower over her computer screen and brought up the assignment outline her teacher had emailed the class. Maybe if she read it again…

Suddenly, Santana caught two simultaneous jabs to the ribs. She jumped like she'd been electrocuted and looked around. Sugar was sitting on her bed, leaning towards her, saying something.

Santana tugged out her ear phones and jabbed the space bar on her computer to pause the music.

"What?" She demanded, wincing as she reached to rub her ribs. "We just wanted to say hi," Sugar said, struggling to contain her laugher.

"We?" Santana frowned and then jumped again as someone leapt out from behind her door, wearing a fluffy bright pink onesie and a _Scream _mask.

"Jesus," Santana wobbled on her chair as she shunted it around to her would-be serial killer. The person tugged off their mask and a slash of blond hair was let loose, followed by Brittany's flushed, laughing face.

"Your...the look on your…" She gasped and shook her head. On the bed, Sugar had her face pressed into the pillows, shaking with giggles.

"Shh," Santana muttered, slapping Sugar's shoulder with one hand and flapping the other at Brittany. "The matron will come in and I'll be the one that freaking gets in trouble…"

Sugar lifted up her head and pouted at Santana.

"Don't be gwumpy."

"Don't use that voice," Santana snapped.

"Ohhh!" Brittany said and Santana looked up at her, ready to shush her once more, but she stopped when she realised Brittany's eyes were trailing over her chest.

"I just got the joke on your shirt," she said, grinning.

Santana looked down and then balled the front of her shirt up in her fists, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

Sugar lifted her head up off the bed.

"Is it the one that says: 'I'd Hit That'?"

"Yeah," Brittany smiled. "And she'd hit it because it's a piñata. But it also means sex. It's funny," she said in a reassuring voice to Santana. "You don't have to hide it."

"It's her boyfriend's poor attempt at being culturally sensitive," Sugar said, shrieking and backing up on the bed when Santana lashed a hand at her again.

"Wait I don't...what?" Brittany was frowning.

"I'm Hispanic," Santana explained.

"Ohhh," Brittany's face lit up with laughter. "That's pretty bad."

"Yep," Santana nodded. "I only wear it to bed and stuff though, don't worry."

"_Girls?" _Miss Pillsbury was standing outside the opening of Santana's door. She cleared her throat meekly and said, "Boyfriends and t-shirts really don't constitute homework in my book so come on, Sugar and...Britt-Brittany…" She dissolved into light laughter, "what on earth are you wearing?"

Brittany looked down and laughed at herself as though she'd only just realised what she had on.

"It's a onesie," she explained. "Like for babies but this one is for grownups. They're super comfy. Sugar and I got matching ones today in town."

"Oh very...uh...very good," Miss Pillsbury nodded, looking at Brittany like she was insane. "Well come on now, you can show it to Santana more thoroughly after prep."

Something about that made Santana tense, but the moment was over as suddenly as it arrived and Miss Pillsbury ushered them out, rolling Santana's door closed behind them.

Half an hour later Santana had gotten no further on her English assignment. It was no use. She'd have to get Tina to write it. She was good with words. Not as good as Quinn, but Santana was pretty sure she could kiss Quinn's help goodbye for a while.

She shunted her chair back from her desk and stood up, deciding she'd pee and then go and grease for Tina's help.

On her way back from the toilet, Santana noticed that Brittany's door was cracked open about 30 centimetres. Through the gap Santana could see Brittany at her desk, nodding along to her headphones and writing something in a workbook.

Santana grinned and stepped closer to the door. It was the prime moment to get Brittany back for the Scream mask.

She took another step forward and began to inch Brittany's door open, biting her lip from concentration.

She had it halfway open when Brittany leant back in her chair and looked into her darkened window. Through the reflection, her eyes met Santana's.

Santana froze and Brittany whipped her head around, pulling her earphones out of her ears.

"Caught in the act!" She poked out her tongue a little through her toothy grin. "You'd make a terrible serial killer."

Santana had no retort. She just laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Caught, yep. I guess."

"Come in and shut the door before Miss Pillsbury sees you," Brittany said, still smiling.

Excuses came to the top to Santana's throat immediately but the jerk of impulse was stronger and she stepped inside, sliding Brittany's door closed.

She stood in the threshold and travelled her eyes over the visual assault that was the wall above Brittany's bed. The last time Santana had seen it had been the week before when Brittany had still been decorating it.

Now, there was hardly an inch of the blue material of the wall visible. It was one huge collage of images and it reminded Santana of how she had decorated the covers of her school books and binder in middle school.

"This must have taken forever," she breathed.

"Uh-huh. And _a lot _of pins."

"These are-" Santana gestured to the section of pictures that were mostly amateur photographs, "-your friends?"

"Back from home, yup," Brittany nodded. She got up off her chair and stood beside Santana, pointing to a photo of two people sitting on a couch wearing party hats.

"That's my Mom and Dad."

Santana bent closer. Brittany was a younger version of her mother- the lips, the face shape, the blue eyes. But…

"You have your Dad's smile," Santana remarked, cringing inwardly as the words sounded out loud.

"And his funny nose," Brittany laughed, tapping the side of her own. Then she directed Santana's gaze up the wall slightly.

"And that's my cat, Lord Tubbington."

A tabby, roughly the size of a small bear, was lumped on the arm of a couch- the same one, by the looks of it, that Brittany's parents had been photographed on. His fat rolls were drooping off either side and he was glaring haughtily at the camera.

"That's terrifying," Santana muttered.

Brittany laughed. "He got grumpy that day because we had to trim his claw nails." She pushed her bottom lip out and rubbed the tip of her index finger over his head. "I miss him so much."

"Aw," Santana said without sympathy. If there was anyone capable of becoming a serial killer it was Brittany's cat.

Santana raised her eyes further up the wall and pointed to a section of it that was entirely covered by cut out pictures of intricately decorated baking. "Doesn't that make you hungry?"

Brittany shrugged. "It's a wish wall and I'd like to be able to cook stuff when I grow up so I'm putting it out there in the universe. That's why-" She pointed over to the other side of the wall, "-I have a picture of hot air balloons because it'd be cool to be a hot air balloon pilot some day. And right beside that I put a picture of a blimp because I want to learn why they exist."

"That's what Google is for," Santana laughed.

She spotted the Zac Efron poster and, deciding to leave his presence on the wall unquestioned, she moved her eyes to the picture Brittany had pinned beside him.

Mila Kunis was dipped back on a bed with her eyes directed provocatively at the camera. A lazy half smile played on her lips. Her bra was lace and nude coloured and Santana was sure she could see the shadow of her nipples. The photo ended past her bare stomach, just below the line of her lace panties.

Santana swallowed awkwardly and dropped her gaze, but Brittany must have seen her looking because she said; "They're on my list too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." And then Brittany reached over to Santana and tugged at the bottom of her shirt until the piñata on the front was stretched taunt. "I'd hit them both."

Santana forced a laugh and brushed her hand down her shirt, slipping the fabric out of Brittany's hold.

"You'd have to fight Sugar for Zac Efron," she said lightly.

Brittany shrugged. "So long as Mila Kunis isn't taken I'm okay with that."

Feeling like the wall had suddenly become dangerous territory; Santana turned her back to it and sat on the edge of Brittany's bed.

Brittany moved back to sit sideways on her chair. She bent up one leg, resting her heel on the edge of the seat beneath her butt, and curled one hand around her toes.

There was a long pause and Brittany picked up her pen and began swirling the tip over the corner of what looked like a math worksheet. Santana watched the tendons on her inner wrist flickering as she worked.

Behind her, Santana could almost feel Mila Kunis's eyes burning into the back of her head. She wanted to ask Brittany questions about it, but she didn't know what exactly she wanted the answer to. Brittany's Facebook page and her 'I'd hit them both' comment made it pretty clear, but Santana's curiosity was still bubbling uncomfortably in her chest.

_When did you know you wanted to 'hit' guys and girls? _That's what she'd ask. She said the words to herself in her head and then opened her mouth to say it to Brittany.

"What do you think of this?"

At the sound of Brittany's voice, Santana jumped and snapped her mouth closed over her question- her confidence scattering like Brittany had just yelled at her.

Brittany was holding up her laptop towards Santana. On the screen was a picture of a road at night time with trees towering on either side of it. Strewn all across the picture- in the air above the road and swinging in and out from behind the trees- were bright fluorescent dots. They trailed in curves like someone had cracked open a glow stick and scattered its fluid through the air.

"What are they?" Santana asked.

"Fireflies!" Brittany grinned. Santana hitched her eyebrows and stared at the screen harder.

"Fireflies…"

"Yup! A photographer took a long exposure photo of a road full of fireflies and this is what he ended up with."

Santana reached out and took the laptop off Brittany, pulling it onto her knees. She didn't take her eyes off the screen.

"It's like magic right?" Brittany scooted off her chair and sat lightly on the edge of the mattress beside Santana. "There's more," she breathed, reaching over and tapping the right arrow key.

Another picture of the road, this time angled towards the trees. The fluorescent dots swarmed all over the page, some so close up to the camera that they were blurry. Santana was enthralled.

Brittany reached again to tap the arrow and her arm brushed against Santana's lap.

And then Santana was only looking at the photos so she'd have somewhere to aim her eyes. Shivers raked their way down her spine like finger nails on a chalkboard and it was the oddest feeling. She was stuck in limbo, not wanting Brittany to move her arm but growing more and more uncomfortable the longer she left it there.

There were only three more photographs and Brittany clicked through them in a measured pace. As they looked at the last one together, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Brittany called. And she moved her arm and Santana let out the breath she'd been keeping trapped.

Quinn rattled the door back but didn't step inside the room. Her eyes glanced off Santana and then fixed resolutely upon Brittany.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said in a clipped voice. "I was just wondering if you knew that half the Cheerios won't be able to make it to the Thursday practises set in the timetable you emailed us because it clashes with the social club meeting."

Santana watched Brittany's face flicker in concern. "I'm sorry it does, I didn't know. But I can't change the Thursday timeslot because all the other afternoons at the gym have been booked out."

"That's too bad," Quinn mimicked Brittany. "Guess we're all just going to have to decide which one is more worth our time. Maybe we can just skip your practice and only go to Coach Sue's ones on Tuesdays."

Santana snorted. "Oh yeah, Coach Sue is going to be so understanding when half the team ditches an amazing learning opportunity for a club where all you do is sit around and shit yourselves over the thought of getting past first base with a guy."

Quinn ignored Santana. "I just thought I'd let you know Brittany, in case you figured holding the lesson wasn't worth it."

Brittany shrugged. "It's part of a commitment to the Cheerios so I'll just work with the ones that show up I guess."

There was a beat of heavy silence. Santana could see Quinn turning a retort over on her tongue. She must have decided against it though, because she just shrugged and said, "just thought I'd let you know."

"Thanks Quinn," Brittany said but Quinn rattled the door closed so quickly that Santana would have been surprised if she'd heard her over the noise.

* * *

><p>Santana would bet money on the fact that everyone in the food court hated their table. They were easily the loudest- not helped by the fact that Artie had tickled Mercedes, causing her to laugh so hard that the sound frightened a baby into tears two booths over.<p>

There were too many of them for the booth. Mercedes, Tina and Sam had to drag extra chairs over from the surrounding tables- which left a few tables without any seats at all. Finn, Rachel, Puck and Santana squished up in the booth on the other side. Artie had taken up the space beside Santana's end of the booth with his wheelchair.

Rachel, it seemed, had the same concerns as Santana about their group's annoyingness because she kept flapping her arms and shushing them.

"Berry, you're making more noise than all of us," Puck said, leaning his face out of Santana's neck to look at her. He and Santana had made up the day after their argument. Him with a well-aimed text about how lucky he was to have the hottest girl at Alexandra, and she by admitting she'd been a bit wound up about Quinn. They both agreed not to mention Olivia again.

Rachel shot Puck a scowl. "You and Santana are only being quiet because you're too busy sucking each other's faces to engage in the conversation."

Santana leaned around Puck to give Rachel a look of disgust.

"Rachel, you were trying to get us to debate whether you'd make a better Belle or a better Jasmine in a Disney Broadway musical. I'd honestly rather choke on Puck's tongue than have to offer any contribution to that."

There was a rise of multi-toned laughter at Santana's words, and she sat back into Puck's arms satisfied.

Once the laughter died down, and Rachel tossed her hair haughtily and fixed her attention onto the smoothie that Finn had bought her, Mercedes turned to Artie.

"Oh I nearly forgot to ask, what did you think of the pictures I sent you?"

Santana watched Artie push his lips together and raise his eyebrows, nodding furiously.

"I like. I like indeed."

"Oh, are these the pictures you showed Mike and me last night?" Sam interrupted with his mouth full.

Artie nodded, his eyebrows still raised.

"Oh man. Yep, she's hot." Sam said approvingly.

"Aaand…" Mercedes persisted, still looking at Artie.

"Well if I meet her and we get along I totally would want to take it further."

At this, Mercedes looked at Tina and they both grinned and clapped happily.

"What photos are these? Who're you talking about?" Finn asked.

"Photos of the new girl, Brittany. Tina, her and I had a photo booth session in my room the other night and I sent them to Artie coz I think he and Brittany would be soooo cute together."

"That's kind of weird," Santana frowned. "Does she know you sent them to him?"

Mercedes wrinkled her lips. "No…" She said slowly. "But I've told her about Artie and showed her photos and she thinks he's cute as well so I don't see the problem."

Santana opened her mouth to argue, but found she had nothing to say. For some reason this made her chest constrict in annoyance.

"Jeez Santana," Tina muttered, catching the look on her face. "Don't look so offended. It's not like Brittany really cares. She's pretty...uh...open about stuff. Remember her Facebook? A few pictures wouldn't matter. And its _Artie_," she added, rolling her eyes.

Santana couldn't see how it being _Artie _made it any better. And she was about to say so when Puck suddenly jolted against her. He sat forwards, beaming at Artie.

"Oh man dude, I just remembered. She goes both ways. I bet she'd totally be into a threesome."

Santana rounded on him.

"We don't know if she goes both ways yet. She could've just put that up there as a joke."

"Uh, actually, we do." Tina said, looking at Rachel. Santana looked over at her too and saw Rachel grinning at her apologetically.

"I asked her the other day. Just- just because I wanted to inform her about the gay-straight alliance that Ms. Lee runs at school. And also so I could tell her about my Dad's."

Puck looked like all his Christmas's had come at once.

"And she said she was?" He breathed in awe, turning to Artie. "Duuuude, this is _so _happening."

Santana elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he doubled over away from her, laughing.

"You're such a horny fuck sometimes Puckerman," she muttered.

"Well maybe if I got more…"

The rest of his sentence was swallowed by Mercedes banging her hand against the table so hard it sent several burger wrappings flying, and caused Finn to jump and cough against his sip of coke.

"Speak of the devil." Mercedes eyes were trailing across the space over Santana's shoulder. She looked around with the rest of them to see Brittany and Sugar winding their way around the food court, mulling over the different food choices.

"Did you invite her?" Artie asked Mercedes. She shook her head, beaming.

"It must be fate!" She said happily.

"Hey Brittany! Sugar!" Rachel was kneeling up on the booth, waving her arms emphatically.

Santana dropped lower in her seat, feeling an odd flush rush over her. Beside her, Puck twisted back too, shooting Artie two thumbs up.

A sudden urge seized Santana and she picked up one of his arms and draped it over her shoulder. Then she twisted so that her breasts were flush against the side of his rib cage and tugged his face urgently down to hers.

"Mmm," he hummed, deepening their kiss and reaching up to fan his hand across her lower back.

"Hey everyone." She heard Sugar's voice dimly, and then a chorus of greetings from the others. Puck moved to pull away but Santana pressed harder still against him, flicking her tongue into the gap between his lips. He inhaled sharply through his nose and then juddered against her suddenly, pulling out of the kiss with a shout of pain. The next thing Santana knew, he'd torn himself away from her and was batting his free arm around at Finn who was lining up a second jab to his ribs.

Santana huffed a sigh and straightened herself up on the seat, casting her eyes in what she hoped was a casual sweep over the table. Sugar and Brittany were standing in the space between Tina and Mercedes chairs, joining in everyone's laughter at Puck and Finn.

When Santana looked at her, Brittany immediately switched her eyes to meet Santana's- like she'd physically felt Santana's gaze.

"Hi San," she smiled politely, and wiggled her fingers in a small wave.

Santana nodded at her.

Then Brittany's attention was tugged, literally, away by Mercedes, who grasped Brittany's arm and turned grandly in her chair, gesturing to Artie.

"Brittany, this is Artie. Artie, this is Brittany."

They exchanged hellos. Brittany smiled sweetly, and Artie blushed like the whole table could see his boner.

And again, Santana had that impulse. Something tugged in her chest- just one forceful jerk. She turned back to Puck and slipped her hand so high on his leg under the table top that he stopped goofing around with Finn, and turned, honing in on her with a lazy half smile. He reached for her and dipped his head and she closed her eyes.

This time, Finn didn't interrupt but Santana pulled them to the surface after only a couple of deep kisses. It had been long enough for the table arrangement to have changed. Sugar had pulled a seat over into the gap left by Artie's wheel chair and Brittany was no longer standing between Mercedes and Tina.

Santana blinked around the food court and saw Artie sat at the end of the line for the McDonald's booth. Brittany had a hold of the handles of his wheel chair. Santana watched as she cocked her head down and then threw it back; laughing at something he must have said.

Santana dropped her gaze- as heavy as a stone- and turned in her seat. Puck's hand was on her thigh and he was smiling down at her.

She reached for him again.

* * *

><p>That evening at dinner, Mrs Cowley announced that Youthline would begin that night and carry on for the ninth and tenth graders for the next 4 weeks. Santana perked up at the prospect. All Youthline involved was sitting with your grade in a circle and going over group bonding exercises with some half-crazy counsellor for supervision. Way better than being cramped in your room slugging it out over an Algebra text book.<p>

After dinner, when the bell for prep rang, all the other grades headed for their rooms while the ninth graders remained in the dining room and the tenth graders headed over to the fruit room.

Their counsellor hadn't arrived yet and everyone made a fuss about being allowed to sit on the couches- which were usually reserved for 11th and 12th graders. Santana was squashed between Lauren and Rachel on one of them, Quinn, Amy, Emma and Tina had secured the largest couch and Brittany, Sugar and Mercedes took the third. Generously, they left the bean bag by the TV for the counsellor.

Beth, the counsellor, arrived late- all frazzled and apologetic and was quite happy to sit on the bean bag. She snuggled into it and grinning around at them like she was five years old. She also had a lisp and Sugar wasted no time in telling her that she looked exactly like Meredith off Grey's Anatomy and that she better not be as annoying as Meredith otherwise Youthline would be ruined just like the show was.

Beth laughed and waved a hand.

"I get that all the time. But I was lisping way before Meredith made it cool."

She twisted into her bag and drew out a roll of large white sheets of paper, a packet of colored pens and a soft toy monkey. She sat the papers and the pens in the middle of the carpet and then reached down to settle the monkey on the carpet beside the bean bag, carefully crossing his paws on his lap.

A few people giggled and Lauren snorted into her hand as Beth petted the toy on the head and said, "Good boy, don't be shy. These girls are gonna be really nice! I promise!"

Santana's face twisted into a look of incredulity, and she ran her eyes around the others who were all exchanging similar looks. All except Sugar, who was looking at her phone screen in her lap, and Brittany- who was watching Beth and her monkey with a gleam in her eyes.

"What's his name?" She asked softly.

Beth turned her head around and flashed Brittany a grin.

"This is Donald. Donald, say hello to the pretty girl."

Beth waved Donald's paw at Brittany, lifting his other one to push down his nose like he was embarrassed.

Brittany blushed and grinned and waved back. Santana felt a smile lift up her cheeks too at this interaction until she realised the others were now looking back and forth between Beth and Brittany like they were trying to decide who was the craziest. Santana dropped her smile and looked at the paper and pens instead.

"Right, exercise one is really aimed at reacquainting with one another and spreading positive vibes around the group," Beth said, folding Donald's paws back neatly back together and leaning over to unroll and spread the sheets of paper. "So what I want you guys to do is to hop off the couches."

Everyone groaned and Beth laughed again.

"Yep, come down here and slum it with Donald and me."

They did what she asked and pulled the sheets of paper around to them.

"Good," Beth nodded when everyone had their own. "Now, grab a pen- your favourite color- from the container."

There was a scuffle as everyone reached into the container at once. Rachel had the good sense to tip in onto the floor and then snatch the pink one. Santana just grabbed the one that rolled closest- red- which she kinda thought was her favourite color anyway. Once they'd all settled back to their papers with the pens Beth glanced around at each one of them- counting under her breath.

"Ten…" she finished as she looked at Mercedes on the end of the circle. "Alright so, on your paper I want you to draw a flower with 9 petals. Make sure it's big enough to fill up the whole space of the page."

There was silence apart from the rustle of paper and the occasional squawk from the tip of the pens as they all followed Beth's instructions.

Santana was the first to finish- not really caring that some of her petals were warped into one another and some were overly big. Rachel was the last to finish, protesting when Beth called for her to stop that she was trying to work out the circumference of the circle so that she could divide the petals evenly. Silently, Lauren leaned past Santana, took the pink pen and the paper from Rachel and quickly scrawled an imperfect, but workable flower onto the page. When Rachel got the paper back she looked at it like someone had defiled her grandmother's grave.

Santana patted her on the back. "You'll get through this," she assured her in mock sympathy.

"Now," Beth looked away from Rachel in amusement. "What everyone has to do is write their name in the middle bit of the flower and then pass it on to person to their left- and so on and so on until your flower gets back around the circle to you. When you get another person's flower, you'll have a minute to list the qualities you value about the person whose name is written in the middle. These are called friendship flowers and they'll stand as markers to show you how much your relationships will have progressed by the end of the year. Now, is everyone well with what they're doing?"

Sugar put her hand into the air.

"Can we write in our own flowers?" She asked.

There was scattered laugher and Beth glanced down at Donald.

"What do you think?" She asked. She tilted her head closer. "Hmm? Oh, okay." Then she looked grimly back up at Sugar.

"Donald doesn't think you've got enough petals. But if you get your flower back and find that you do he thinks it would be fine to write in your own flower."

Sugar beamed and pumped her fist. "Thanks Donald."

"Is everyone ready? To da left!" Beth called, flicking her wrists and pointing. There was a flurry of movement as everyone shifted their papers over. Santana grimaced as Rachel's landed in front of her. She uncapped her pen and mused over it. Everyone was silently writing and so she dipped her head and held the tip of the pen close to the paper in the middle of the top corner. Eventually she just rambled a little about Rachel's organisational skills and how, come exam time, she'd be grateful for Rachel's presence in her history class.

The next flower that gave her pause was Quinn's. She glanced over what the others had written- finding nothing but references to inside jokes and run of the mill words; _Smart, funny, good dancer. _Rachel had even written- _brave- _though Santana couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

When Beth counted twenty seconds to go, Santana panicked and wrote:

"_You're better at English than I am. And at drawing flowers" _

Santana passed it along without reading it over.

The next flower that Rachel passed onto her was Brittany's. Santana looked down at it, picking up words from the other petals like '_bubbly'_, '_lovely_,' '_funny'_, '_kind'_, and '_eccentric (in a good way)_'. Santana agreed with all of them, but only one petal seemed to sum Brittany up as well as Santana wanted to and that was Rachel's. She'd written the Brittany was kind and full of integrity and not afraid to stand up for who she was. That Brittany was _special. _That word stuck out because it was the truth. Brittany was special. Hard to describe, but special.

Santana suddenly wished she hadn't read anyone else's petals because they all seemed to clog Santana's head with generic words- imposters for what Santana really thought Brittany deserved.

It took Beth counting from 20 again to spur some rambling words out of the end of Santana's pen:_ "You've shown me some cool stuff. Like how cats can have secret admirers and that magic can be caught by long exposure (watch out HP, us muggles are onto you). From San xxx" _

Two flowers later, Santana's own was placed in front of her again.

"Now everyone can take the time to read theirs and thank everyone!" Beth said, picking up Donald and hugging him to her chest.

Santana ran her eyes over her flower.

Lauren's comment made Santana laugh out loud.

"_Dude, seeing as I'm first, I get to choose the least retarded petal! Yay! You are fierce and I love you and never change unless it's to be more like me." _

"Nice," she muttered sideways and Lauren winked.

Quinn had chosen to write in the largest petal on Santana's flower- filling it with one word. _Quinn. _Followed by 'xoxoxoxoxox'. Santana moved her eyes past it, regretting even writing on Quinn's paper at all.

Brittany's petal was below Quinn's. It was filled with loopy yellow writing that didn't stand out well from the white of the paper. Santana had to tilt it close and squint.

"_I don't think you can fit a person like you into a petal but Donald is watching me do this so I better try. You have funny jokes and you smile way more than you think you do. It's nice and I hope we get to be good friends! xoxox Brittany" _

Santana felt like she'd swallowed cotton wool. Carefully she looked up to see if she could catch Brittany's eye, but Brittany was leaning across the circle to hug Tina who'd obviously written something nice on Brittany's flower.

A flush crept its way up Santana's cheeks as she recalled what she'd written on Brittany's paper. Some lame Harry Potter joke that in hindsight, made Santana want to shrivel up in disgust.

Around her, the others were all getting to their feet and approaching different people to thank them.

"Ha! Sugar!" Mercedes cackled, waggling her paper at Sugar and laughing.

Emma squealed and pulled Quinn off her feet to hug her. Amy and Rachel were bent over one another's- laughing at the fact they'd both mentioned the same inside joke. Tina, shaking her head and giggling, bounded over and yanked Santana up into a hug, jabbing her in the ribs for good measure.

"You just had to mention the hooking up with that random guy behind a church incident didn't you?" She scoffed.

"Oh yes," Santana said with mock sternness. "It was an important life event, and I really value the amusement it's given me over the past year."

Tina pushed her sideways playfully and the backs of Santana's legs hit the couch, causing them to buckle. She teetered on the edge of balance for a second before someone gripped her arm and brought her upright.

"Careful," Brittany smiled at her.

"Thanks," Santana said. "And, thanks for the flower- petal- um- thing you wrote. It was really nice."

Santana cringed inwardly, wondering when her ability to be articulate had shrunken to that of a 14 year old boy.

"You're welcome," Brittany said softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. There was a pause and then she reached out and put her arms around Santana, trapping Santana's own arms at her sides. She squeezed for a moment and then let go.

"Thank you for yours," she said softly. "It was my favorite."

* * *

><p>That night, Santana pinned the flower up on her wall beside her Rastafarian poster. She laid on her bed and looked at it but from far away Brittany's writing was even harder to read. She got up off her bed and unpinned it, folding it up and sliding it into the top drawer of her desk instead.<p>

She laid back down and put her hands behind her head, listening to everyone settling into their night time routines. She could hear the echo of Sugar and Tina in the bathroom brushing their teeth, and some music wafted from Mercedes's room opposite Santana's. It was calming- smooth, old school jazz or something. Santana closed her eyes, not even trying to stay awake to get her name ticked off by the night matron. She hadn't locked her door so they'd be able to just open it and find her there.

Santana's sleepy thoughts strayed, avoiding the English assignment she still hadn't written, towards Youthline. Donald the monkey and Beth's lisp and Tina and Mercedes getting so hysterical during their meditation exercise at the end of the session that everyone had started laughing until Beth did too. And then no one was meditating and everyone was rolling around clutching their stomachs.

The last thing that Santana thought about before she fell asleep was how her stupid words had been the ones that Brittany had liked the most.

The thought made her smile.

If sleep came peacefully to Santana, the velvet of Mercedes's jazz coaxing gently into unconsciousness, the way she woke up was a perfect, violent contrast. Darkness lay blank and heavy all around her. And all she could hear was crying.


	5. A Good Enough Disguise

**Hii! Sorry this is so late, I promise to update more regularly. **

**On another note, I'm without a beta! And I really want my story to be as authentic as I can so if any of you want to be my American speaker and just quickly read the chapters over before I publish them to make sure I'm using the right words please please please do! It's not a big job I promise!**

**PM me if you're keen or drop me a message on my Tumblr: **

**lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com**

**Anyway, read and review! **

**Ch 4: A Good Enough Disguise**

The darkness was so resolute that staring into it hurt Santana's eyes. She fumbled for her phone, the crying growing louder now. And there were other sounds. Shushing, laughter, bumping and scraping. The low rumble of voices.

Santana found her phone and switched the screen light on, holding it above her head to see where the crying was coming from but she found her room empty. She got up, stumbling against her half-asleep muscles, and pulled her door open.

All the sounds became more nuanced as she poked her head put into the hall. She heard male voices and someone shushing frantically. And then a sniff and a half choked sob sounded from just past her door and Santana swung her phone around. The beam was bright enough to make Brittany squint.

She was hovering in the hallway, her hands clutched together up against her chest. Her white singlet had ridden up, and her bed shorts were tiny. She was shivering, though Santana didn't know if it was her tears or the temperature that induced it.

"Brittany," Santana whispered, stepping farther out of her room. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Brittany's face contorted against tears and she shivered more violently.

"There are boys in my room. I don't know who they are."

Santana stared at her. "_Boys? _Wha- what? Did someone break in? Are they in there now? _Did they hurt you?" _

"They are in my room. Someone unscrewed my latches so that they could climb in and they are in there now."

_"What the fuck?" _Santana whispered, shooting a glance down the hall at Brittany's door. Another door next to Santana's rattled open and Santana swung her phone around to see Tina poking her head out.

"What's going on?"

"There are guys in Brittany's room."

Tina's eyes bugged. "What?"

"Someone unlatched her window so they could get in."

"I'll go get the matron…"

"Wait," Santana stopped her. "Hold on."

She walked closer to Brittany's door and banged on it.

"Who the fuck are you?" She whispered through the crack.

The door rattled open and Santana blinked up in shock. Matt- a guy she'd met a couple of times from Puck's football team was standing in the door way. Behind him were two of Puck's other team mates that Santana recognised as well.

"Who the hell let you in?"

"We snuck in." Matt was smirking. "That Brittanygirlleft her window open for us."

The guys behind him sniggered. One had sunk down to sit on Brittany's bed. He picked up one of her soft toys and threw it at the other guy. Anger shot through Santana as the toy landed on the floor, its glass eyes making a pathetic, hollow clacking sound against the wood. She shoved Matt with enough force to make him stumble backwards.

"Leave now. Or else I'll call the matrons up here to deal with you. You guys will be so screwed when the Andrews' dorm masters find out you've snuck out."

The smug smile did not leave Matt's face. He slung his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

"And your friend Brittany will get expelled for having her window unlatched and for sneaking boys in. Your matrons have no way of knowing we go to the boarding house at Andrews'. We're all signed out for the night so there's nothing stopping us from being here."

Santana ignored him and took another step closer. "Who let you in?"

"I've already told you."

"Brittany didn't let you in. Cut the crap," she snapped.

"Santana?" Santana looked around and saw Mercedes, Lauren and Sugar hovering in the hallway, peering blearily into the bedroom.

"Why- why're there boys here? Tina told us-"

"What's going on? Why are we all out of our rooms after light out?" Rachel appeared, pushing through the others. She stopped at the door and stared inside, her mouth dropping open in horror.

"Boys," she spluttered dumbly and her voice rose in panic. "There are boys in Brittany's room! Boys... Why..." She whipped her head around to Santana. "Did you and Brittany sneak these boys in here? You know I'm going to have to inform the night matron, it's my duty as-"

"_No. _Jesus christ it wasn't us," Santana whispered fiercely. "Brittany is fucking cowering in the hallway because she got woken up by three guys climbing through her window and I'm trying to get it out of them who the hell would want to do this and get Brittany expe-"

The words fell from her lips as she saw a phone on Brittany's desk- one she didn't recognise, light up with a text message.

Matt turned to it, but Santana was like lightening past him. She snatched the phone, jerked her back to him so he couldn't snatch it off her, and clicked 'open'.

A text from Quinn Fabray loaded.

_"Lol. Yes, by the sounds of Rachel flipping her shit this was totally worth the $50." _

Santana squeezed the phone so tightly in her fist that the plastic cover creaked. She looked down at the message a second time and laughed. Then she turned on her heel and pushed past Rachel and through the others.

"Santana? Where are you going?" Rachel whispered frantically, but Santana ignored her and headed down the hallway. She paused when she reached Brittany- who was still standing outside her room and shivering.

"Hop in my bed," Santana said- her voice flat with anger.

Brittany did what she said without asking why, which was good because Santana didn't have a coherent reason. She waited until Brittany's dim shape was muffled by the bulk of her blanket before Santana slid her door closed and preceded down the hall.

She could see the faintest slither of light coming from Quinn's room. Muffled giggles trailed from behind the door. They made Santana's chest tighten. Quinn wasn't alone, she thought. This was more than one person's idea of a joke.

Santana was so angry she felt sick. She reached the door and slammed her fist hard into the wood, almost jerking the door off its railing. But Quinn had locked it so it didn't slide back.

The giggles coming from inside stopped abruptly, and Santana was plunged into recklessness. She brought her fist up and it connected again- the wood vibrating loudly. She no longer cared about the matrons coming, not when she had Matt's phone with the text from Quinn.

"Open the door," she called, tilting her head closer to detect any movement. There was none- but the light that had been on inside and ebbing under the door clicked off.

Santana let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, trying to retain composure.

She jammed her lips against the slight crack at the end of the door and whispered into it, the rage making her voice shake.

"Get the fuck out here right now."

Silence.

"I've got Matt's phone. I've got the text. I'm going for the matrons."

"Santana!" A panicky whisper and the padding of footsteps came from further down the hall. Rachel appeared, looking livid.

"They are refusing to leave," she spluttered. "And- and Brittany's not in the hall anymore and I really think you shouldn't be getting anyone else involved in this. This was stupid of Brittany and so, so reckless and…"

Rachel's voice died as Santana held up Matt's phone in front of her face. She read the text, her frown deepening.

"Wait-What so...she…" Rachel pointed disbelievingly at Quinn's door.

"Yup. A pathetic, _immature trick," _Santana raised her voice so that it could be heard through Quinn's door. "Quinn get the fuck out of here right now."

"Quinn," Rachel interjected, "Santana's right, you need to come out and- and- I'll- I have to go and get the matron…"

Quinn's door rattled open sharply and Amy appeared looking severely harassed.

"Close the door Amy, what the fuck?" Quinn snapped. She and Emma were sitting at either end of her bed. Amy threw a hesitant look over her shoulder at them and then looked back at Santana and Rachel.

"Guys, please. It was just some stupid joke," She pleaded. "We didn't think they'd actually do it."

"You unlatched her window," Santana spat, pushing Amy aside and heading straight for Quinn, who vaulted up off her bed and didn't flinch even when Santana came toe-to-toe with her. "You fucking _paid_ them."

Quinn's lazy smile was so familiar that it took Santana's breath. She'd seen it so many times on Olivia.

"You're not _her!" _Santana half yelled, tears choking her throat. "You don't get to be this way. You have no right to pull this crap."

Quinn's face was inches from hers, and the look on it told Santana that she knew Olivia was so present between them that she could have been standing in the room. It made Santana feel sick, and then that dull thud of hollowness hit her chest- the one that always preceded a loss of control.

She fell quiet, breathing hard.

"You quite done?" Quinn asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Quinn, what you did...Frankly...I just can't believe you." Rachel's voice carried from behind Santana. "You need to go and get those boys to leave firstly. And then… Well and then you really need to go and say sorry to Brittany."

"I will if you get her guard dog out of my face," Quinn said, wrinkling her nose at Santana.

In a burst of anger, Santana lashed her fist out sideways- smacking it into the wall. It was nowhere near Quinn but it was enough to make her jump, and the insolence in her gaze fractured slightly.

"I could ruin you," Santana whispered, her voice hoarse. "I have the text and all I need to do…"

Without warning, Quinn darted forwards and snatched the phone off Santana. Then she pushing past her and rolling her eyes at Rachel who was stuttering threats.

"I'll fix this," Santana heard Quinn snap. "It's really hilarious how seriously you are all taking this. There are worse things in life than a few boys in a girls' dorm."

Santana stood unmoving, staring at the place on the wall where her fist connected and listening to Quinn's voice fade down the hallway. Emma and Amy began muttering about to go back to bed and Rachel's voice chased after Quinn's.

"Quinn, you must reattach the window latches as well...and…"

After a moment, when Santana's breath wasn't raking so hard against the inside of her throat, left Quinn's room, heading back up the hall. There were muffled sounds coming from Brittany's room, and the light was still on but there was no commotion.

For once, Santana decided to trust Rachel to deal with it.

She lightened her footsteps as she neared her room and held her breath, sliding her door slowly open. It clacked loudly despite her care and she cringed as the dim figure in her bed shifted.

"It's just me," Santana whispered, not knowing if Brittany was awake to hear her.

"I know," the reply came through the darkness. Santana edged into her room and slid the door closed again. She stood at the foot of the bed and tried to blink Brittany into clearer view.

"Are you okay?"

Brittany sat up higher in bed.

"Yeah. Are they gone? Who were they?"

"They were guys from Andrews' in our year. Football guys. Quinn's making them leave now."

"She unlatched the window didn't she?"

"Yeah," Santana said, hating having to say the words.

"Why does she hate me?" Brittany's voice was heavy with tears. Santana felt her chest contract and she hurriedly stepped forwards, sitting on the edge of the bed by Brittany's hip.

"She-she doesn't," she said. But they both knew she was lying.

There was a long pause and then Brittany said, "I'll give you your bed back."

She made to move, the sheets sighing as she shifted against them, but Santana put her palm out. It found the jut of Brittany's hip bone through the blanket and Santana pushed down, anchoring Brittany in place.

"No, stay there. It's okay." Santana's eyes had begun adjusting to the light and she could make out Brittany's face. They were looking at one another.

"But don't you want to sleep?"

"It's okay," Santana said again. She lifted her shoulders up and then dropped them.

There was another pause, and then Santana felt Brittany's hip twist out from underneath her hand. For a second she was disappointed until Brittany pulled the covers aside and shifted one of Santana's pillows over.

"There's room," she said. And that was all she said.

Far away, Santana heard a door rattle closed. She heard footsteps, whispers coming closer. They ghosted right past her room and more doors rattled.

Then there was no sound but the soft puffs of Brittany breathing. Santana stood up, flicked her lock into place and then slid into her bed beside Brittany. It felt foreign and smaller- so much smaller- with two people. They couldn't lie on their backs so Brittany curved on her side, back against the wall, and Santana lay on her side too, facing Brittany. Santana could hear the click of Brittany's eyelids when she blinked. And it was funny because Santana had never noticed a sound like that before in her life, yet she knew instinctively what it was.

"Why are you so nice to me?" Brittany whispered.

Her face was so close. Like it had been in the park that day.

"No reason," she answered finally.

But they both knew she was lying.

* * *

><p><em>Her first cigarette was nothing like the movies; Santana couldn't even balance between her fingertips without it jutting sideways. <em>

_"You need to breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, and then get it to your lungs." _

_Santana sucked on the end, and hardly felt anything at all. Just the taste. She rounded her mouth like Liv was doing and exhaled. Only a faint wisp of smoke trailed out with her breath and it made Liv laugh and shake her head. She notched the cigarette in the corner of her mouth and beckoned Santana closer. Then she lifted her hands- one holding the lighter, and cupped them around the end of Santana's cigarette. Santana smelt the leap of lighter fluid and then the smoke. She breathed in again and choked with her cheeks- trying not to let the coughs come out too loudly. _

_Liv stepped back and laughed again at her. _

_Quinn was standing beside them, fiddling with her still unlit cigarette. Santana thought she might break it- because they seemed so fragile now that she had one between her fingers. Liv hooked her own out of her mouth, funnelled the smoke into the air and the nodded in Quinn's direction. _

_"You'll make the tobacco taste all sweaty if you keep doing that," she said. _

_Quinn looked at her hands and then stilled them, holding the cigarette gingerly by the tip of its filter. _

_"Will I really?" She asked. Liv snorted and rolled her eyes. _

_Santana looked down at her own abysmal attempt at smoking. The paper around the filter had gone clear from her spit and the lit end trailed closer and closer to her fingers- burning away a fragile chunk of ash. _

_Santana wanted to flick it, like she knew you were supposed to, but Liv's laughter had made her shy. _

_She looked up and realised that Liv was looking back and forth between Quinn and Santana incredulously._

_"Honestly. Where do people like you come from?" She asked._

_Santana looked back down at the ash- it had built up so much that it fell of its own accord, scattering apart into a million little flakes towards the ground _

_She wanted to ask Olivia the same question. _

"Santaaaana. Hello?" Mercedes waved a hand in front of her face.

Santana had been dangling the spoon from her coffee out of her mouth, flicking it up and down with her tongue. With the wave of Mercedes hand she started and it flopped out of her mouth, clattering loudly onto the table top.

"Huh?" She said.

Mercedes snorted. "God, you're great company at afternoon tea. We should do this more often."

Santana frowned and shook her head to clear it. "Sorry, late night."

"Yeah I know," Mercedes nodded. "It was…eventful."

"You could say that," Santana said, levelling her eyes across the dining room to where Quinn, Amy and Emma were sitting. Mercedes followed her gaze.

"You're coming to mine this weekend," she said after a moment, looking away from them in disgust.

Santana shrugged and nodded. "I was supposed to go see a movie with Puck…"

"Nope. You blew me off to see him in the break so it's payback."

Santana laughed. "I wasn't disagreeing."

"Good," Mercedes said, satisfied. "I invited Brittany too."

Santana blinked at her. "You did?"

"Yeah, otherwise it's going to be just her in with Quinn, Amy and Emma this weekend. Everyone else is going home."

The reality of this laid itself over them and for a moment neither spoke. Santana picked up her spoon again and looked at her warped reflection in its dome. She thought about Brittany's face beside hers the night before- the light judders of her breathing as she slept- like aftershocks of her earlier sobs.

"Honestly…" Santana gritted out, "I could just…"

"I know, I know," Mercedes reassured her.

They both looked over at Quinn again and Santana couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd held that cigarette. How she'd believed Liv about the tobacco getting sweaty. Santana wanted to stride over and slam the memory down on the table in front of Quinn. Make her remember too.

* * *

><p>On Friday afternoon when Santana got back to the boarding house she found Brittany sitting on the couches of the foyer with two overnight bags placed neatly beside her feet. Her hair had been French braided and she was wearing her ducky sweater.<p>

Santana had just enough time to take all this in before Brittany looked up from the book in her lap and beamed, giving her a cheerful wave.

"I-I thought you were coming to Mercedes's place with us…" Santana frowned, stepping closer.

Brittany ducked her head in a nod, still beaming. "I am."

"But," a small smile wormed its way onto Santana's face, "Mercedes isn't even back from school yet. I passed her class on the way here and they were still taking notes."

Brittany shrugged. "I had a special minds class last period and we always get let out early so I got all ready."

"A special minds class…" Santana faltered, raising her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's just for people that think a bit extra."

"Like…an advance class?" Santana suggested.

Brittany shrugged again. "Kinda. But it's for no proper subject. I mean, last week we talked about gender roles in society and this week we talked about Quantum Physics. And they are pretty different."

"Quantum…" Santana drew a blank but she looked at Brittany and couldn't help smiling. "That's cool Britt, someone's got to be brave enough to learn all that head fuck stuff."

"It's not head fuck stuff," Brittany protested earnestly. "I just think too much and it's nice for that thinking to have somewhere useful to go."

"Mmm," Santana agreed softly. "That does actually sound good."

"Oh my lord! You eager beaver, look at you!" Mercedes had arrived back and approached them, trailing her eyes over Brittany and laughing.

"I'm excited!" Brittany grinned, bouncing once in her seat.

"Well, my Dad text and said he's 15 minutes away. So Santana and I will go pack and you go…I don't know… go get yourself some afternoon tea or something."

Brittany's grin grew wider and she laid her book aside, springing up off the couch.

"Guess we're going to get a full frontal of that girl's crazy this weekend aren't we?" Mercedes said, shaking her head as Brittany bounced away from them up the ramp to the dining room, her ponytail swinging violently.

"She's certainly full of surprises," Santana agreed.

They arrived back in the foyer with their bags to find Brittany sitting back on her couch, a stack of sandwiches placed neatly on the cover of her book.

"That's a lot of sandwiches," Mercedes laughed.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "I made us like a sandwich picnic for the trip. There's one for all of us and one for your Dad too, Mercedes."

Santana had met Mercedes Dad a bunch of times before. He was like a burly Morgan Freeman- with the voice of God and a smile that could rival Mercedes's. Santana gave him a hug while he helped load their bags into the trunk and then Mercedes introduced Brittany, who smiled shyly and offered him the first pick of the sandwiches.

The car ride was longer than Santana remembered it, and night edged its way around them- making the lights flying past brighter and brighter. Mercedes's Dad had the music low, and he and Mercedes were talking just as softly in the front seats. Occasionally he'd raise his voice and Santana would know to listen because he was asking one of them a question.

Brittany had slipped off her shoes and curled her feet up on the seat. She had pink socks on, with purple dots and her head rested against the pillow she'd packed. Santana kept on having to not look at her, but eventually she decided to distract herself completely by finishing her History essay on her laptop.

By the time they swept into Mercedes driveway, Santana was feeling sick from looking at her screen and her bladder was twinging uncomfortably. They piled, stiff legged, out of the car and unloaded the trunk. Mercedes's Mom stood at the door way to welcome them in, smiling politely. She was a teacher -and one of those people who really _talked _to you- their gaze unrelenting and their questions probing. She made Santana slightly uneasy, but she was nice enough. And she'd cooked them a dinner that would have fed their whole grade easily. She also told them that she had covered the TV room floor with mattresses and piles of blankets for them to sleep on.

"TV room?" Brittany's eyes bugged when Mercedes led them through the sitting room towards it. "You have a whole room _just_ for your TV?"

Mercedes shrugged. "We all like to watch different things so there are three TVs."

There were more than three mattresses, but they were so completely covered by pillows and blankets that Santana wasn't sure of the exact number- only that the carpet between the TV and the couches had been completely covered by them.

Mercedes went to the farthest side of the room from the door and plopped down amongst the pillows. Santana was too full and fuzzy to follow her, so she just lay down nearest the door, which left Brittany to take up the middle.

Mercedes picked up the remote and started flicking through the channels.

"Lame," she muttered. "Lame. Lame. Lame." She got to a movie channel. "Ooh, Orphan has just started. Have you guys seen that?"

Brittany and Santana shook their heads.

"It's scary," Mercedes said, settling down and focusing completely on the screen. "But it's awesome."

Beside Santana, Brittany tugged the blankets further up her chest and shuffled against the pillows until she could only peek at the movie.

"Is this about a crazy girl?" She mumbled.

"Uh-huh," Mercedes didn't take her eyes off the screen.

Santana watched the movie disinterestedly for a while and then, when her eyelids weighed half a tonne, she closed them and pressed her face into the pillow.

The next thing she was aware of was the mattress giving slightly beside her, and the shift of blankets.

"Are you awake?" Brittany's whisper sent her breath across Santana's cheek. She opened her eyes and lifted her head.

"Just. Sorry…"

"It's okay," Brittany whispered back. "I was just wondering if the movie was scaring you."

Santana blinked past Brittany at the screen. A girl with a solemn face was standing beside another, smaller girl's bed, glaring down at her sleeping form with black, black eyes.

"Probably if I was watching," Santana shrugged. "Is it scary?"

Brittany nodded. Then she bit her lip and raised her eye brows ever so slightly. Santana suddenly felt a little nervous- like when her teacher hovered over her desk while she was taking a test.

She raised her eyebrows back at Brittany.

"What?"

"Can I lie here, closer to you. Just while…Just while Mercedes has the movie on?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded, trying to swallow. "Yeah."

She moved back- which was silly because there were so many mattresses everywhere, and pulled her blankets up so that Brittany could get beneath them. But Brittany tugged her own over and Santana dropped hers promptly, flushing and feeling like an idiot.

Carefully, like she was scared she would startle Santana, Brittany turned on her side and shuffled herself backwards until they were spooning. Their bodies weren't tucked very close, but the blankets over Santana's knees were touching the blankets around the backs of Brittany's thighs.

Even through the layers Santana could feel the heat of Brittany's body. She was wide awake now, and she watched the light from the TV scattering across the skin of Brittany's arm. Santana realised her face was so close to the back of Brittany's head, and if she just inched her head across the pillow and inhaled she'd smell…

Berry, berry and, vanilla? It must have been her perfume or shampoo, because Santana had never experienced someone having a natural smell like that. She inhaled again, and wished she could memorise it.

Suddenly, a loud violent scream came from the TV, making Santana flinch and causing Brittany to jump and give a little startled cry. She shunted her body backwards from the TV, until her butt and her back were flush up against Santana. Santana's breath caught in her throat as the sound on the movie had ratcheted up violently.

Brittany pressed her face into her pillow and let out a stifled groan as a woman and the creepy orphan girl struggled violently with one another on a frozen lake. Keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on the screen; Santana lifted her arm and curved it slowly around Brittany's middle. As her arm fitted into place there was another high pitched scream from the TV and Brittany shrunk closer still, curving tightly into Santana.

They stayed like that as the action wound down, and when the movie hit the credits, Santana was sure Brittany would move away. Instead she lifted her head and peered over at Mercedes.

"She's asleep," Brittany whispered.

"She probably has been the whole time and we had to suffer through that movie for nothing," Santana mumbled. Her mind was all wrapped up around whether or not she should move her arm. She was fixated upon it, building it up until her arm felt like some gigantic weight pressing against Brittany's stomach.

But Brittany wasn't making any attempt to move away. They just lay there, watching the credits. Santana wondered if Brittany was really watching them, or if they both were concentrating on the way the breathing movement of Brittany's stomach was lifting and dropping Santana's arm with it.

When the advertisements for the next movie took over the credits, Brittany stretched away from Santana and held up the remote to switch off the TV. The room was plunged into darkness, and Santana felt the mattress shift again. And then Brittany fitted herself snugly against Santana.

This time there were no blankets separating them. The skin on Brittany's legs was so hot it was almost unpleasant. And Brittany's hair was so close to Santana's face that that berry-vanilla smell overwhelmed her.

Santana felt her insides liquefy. And she lay there, ridged with shock, as she her pulse swooped down to beat insistently between her legs.

* * *

><p>Santana felt herself being nudged sideways and when she opened her eyes all she could see was Mercedes foot, hovering near her hip.<p>

"Up, up, up!" She sang.

Santana rolled over on her back and stretched, looking up at Mercedes. She was holding a plate in her hand, but all Santana could see was the bottom of it. She inhaled.

"Pancakes!" She said, reaching her hands out for the plate. Mercedes frowned.

"Yeah, chocolate chip ones. Brittany and I made them. And _yours _are on the counter."

Santana dropped her arms and looked over to where Brittany had been laying the night before. Her blankets were scattered between Santana's and the edges of their pillows were layered together. But the space was empty.

"Is Britt still cooking them?" She asked Mercedes, who'd plopped down on the couch near Santana's head and turned the TV on.

"Yeah," she said distractedly.

Santana lay still, debating what to do. Her stomach was churning with her hunger but she didn't know if she could face getting out of bed and being alone in the kitchen with Brittany. She felt completely disarmed by what had happened to her the night before. She was sure Brittany had known something. How could she not have? It had felt like every nerve in Santana's body was warping in on itself and her heart had been hammering so hard it must have been reverberating into Brittany's back.

Mercedes nudged her with her foot again.

"You better hurry up," she said with her mouthful. "My Dad will eat them otherwise."

Huffing a sigh, Santana rolled out of bed, tugging one of the blankets up with her and wrapping it around her like a towel. She raked her fingers through the birds nest at the back of her head and then picked her way across the TV room to the door.

The smell of pancakes was stronger out in the sitting room. The kitchen was just around the corner. She could hear that clink that only plates make against one another. And humming. Someone was humming.

Santana shuffled, her legs constricted by the blanket, into the kitchen.

"Morning," she said.

Brittany spun away from the oven.

"Morning!" She chirped, directing her spatula over towards the island separating them. "Your pancakes are there. They're the not-burnt ones because Mercedes cooked them."

Santana edged towards them. "Thanks." When she had the plate in her hand she hovered awkwardly in front of the island, watching Brittany's back as she attempted to flip her pancake.

"Are you alright…? Should I…Do you want help?"

"Oh no. I'm okay. I like the taste of burnt."

The smell of 'burnt' was exactly what filled the kitchen as Brittany succeeded in flipping over her pancake.

"_That _burnt?" Santana teased, raising her eyebrows.

Brittany shot her a pout over her shoulder and Santana felt her lower stomach tug uncomfortably.

"Alright well I'll leave you to it. See you in the TV room…If you make it out of the flames."

Santana's wit earned her another over the shoulder look from Brittany. She plucked her blankets up around her knees so that she could get more quickly back to the TV room.

Even snuggled back onto her mattress, her mouth full of pancake, Santana's stomach still churned uncomfortably. The tension from the night before still hadn't eased from her nerves- they seemed all bound up in anticipating when Brittany would arrive back from the kitchen with her burnt pancakes.

* * *

><p>By the middle of the day, the ache in Santana's stomach still hadn't abated. Mercedes's cousins, Tom and Kyle, had picked them up and driven them to a lake near Mercedes house. While the others laughed and goofed around on the raised bank near the water's edge, Santana sat up in the curve of a nearby tree trunk. She didn't feel like swimming, but she'd put her bikini on anyway, thinking maybe the sun on her skin would make her feel a little more at ease.<p>

Santana folded her hands over her stomach, shifted against the rough bark of the tree. She was far enough away from the others that they hardly noticed which way her gaze went. So she watched Brittany. She took in the way that her pink bikini cupped her breast together and how her bottoms slung low and easy around her hips. Santana watched the way Brittany threw her head back, lifting her laughter to the sky as Kyle and Tom wrestled near the edge of the bank, trying to tip the other down into the water. She watched as Brittany backed up- right to the edge of the grass- and then, her long legs pumping, sprinted towards the edge and pitched off, shrieking in delight as she hurtled towards the water. Santana watched the way she surfaced, already halfway through a laugh and spurting the water out of her mouth, sweeping the matted blond hair off her face.

After a while, when they'd all been in the water for a while, Brittany paddled to the edge and walked up to Santana's tree.

"Hey," she smiled, wiping the droplets off the end of her nose and her eyes.

"Hey," Santana said.

"You should come swim. It's like…" Brittany rolled her eyes upwards, searching for the words. "It's like awesome."

Santana shrugged. "Not right now. I'm not really in the mood."

"Oh." Brittany trailed her eyes along Santana's body and Santana felt self-consciousness heat up her cheeks. She wished she had her towel. "You look in the mood," Brittany said, pointing. "You're wearing swimming clothes."

"But I don't feel like being in the water."

"You're teasing then," Brittany pouted.

"Teasing how?" Santana asked, fighting a smile.

"You put on your swim suit but don't swim. And I think you'd be fun to swim with. Can you do bombs?"

"Like…dive bombs?"

Brittany nodded, running her tongue over her lips as she grinned.

"Not since I was a kid."

"Well come on," Brittany held out her hand. "Just once. You shouldn't forget what doing kids' stuff feels like."

Santana hesitated, her eyes on Brittany's hand reaching for her. Santana's stomach tugged again and it was painful, but she was already half off the branch, her thighs scraping against the bark. Ground shock made her feet sting, but she righted herself and fitted her hand into Brittany's. Brittany's grin supersized and she began to tug Santana to the water's edge- where Mercedes, Kyle and Tom were yelling and splashing one another.

They'd taken three steps forward when Santana's stomach dropped and she stopped in her tracks, tugging her hand out of Brittany's.

"Shit," she muttered, sweeping her fingers over the back of her bikini bottoms. When she brought them back around she saw that they were tinged with blood. "Shit," she repeated with rising panic.

Brittany was looking at her in confusion and then she saw the blood and her features dropped in worry.

"Are you okay? Are you bleeding?"

Santana backed towards the tree, embarrassment making her sweaty and shaky.

"Can you please get my towel from the car Britt?"

Brittany stepped up to Santana anxiously. "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself on the tree?"

Santana shook her head and rubbed her hand over her stomach, the aching- now that it had a context- seemed to intensify.

"Please just…my towel?"

Brittany nodded, eyeing Santana warily, and hurried to the car. When she returned Santana took the towel and wrapped it around her waist.

"Can you, can you go tell Mercedes that I'm feeling sick and want to go home?"

Brittany's eyes were wild. She bit her lip and stepped right up to Santana so that they were nearly toe-to-toe.

"Santana," She said seriously, levelling their gazes. "What's happened?"

"Period." Santana muttered, shifting her eyes down to the scraps of bark and grass at their feet so she didn't have to see Brittany's reaction.

"Oh, you should have just told me that straight away."

Slowly, carefully, Santana raised her eyes. Brittany was smiling reassuringly at her.

"Hey, it's okay. There's no need to worry. I'll get the others."

"Tell them I'm _sick." _Santana reminded her.

"Sick, yeah!" Brittany nodded, squeezing her arm before turning back to the water.

* * *

><p>That night, after Santana had showered, she dropped onto the TV room floor; half buried herself under her blankets and tucked her knees up in a fetal position. She was too sore to even go out and join Mercedes and Brittany in the kitchen. She could hear their voices, swooping in laughter.<p>

Santana wished she could sleep, but the ache was niggling at her- too annoying to let her drift off.

She picked up her phone and lit up her screen.

No texts.

Santana frowned. She'd text Puck a couple of times since Friday and had heard nothing back. She clicked into 'create new message' and tapped out:

_Hey. Can I call? _

She'd just entered Puck's number when the door to the TV room banged open.

"There you are!" Brittany said brightly, picking across the pillows and blankets on the mattresses to sit down beside her. Santana dropped her phone back onto the blankets without sending the text.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asked, peering at her. "Can I get you anything?"

Santana tucked her hands under her chin and smiled softly up at Brittany. "No. No I'm okay, but thank you."

Brittany nodded and picked up the remote.

The TV failed to hold Santana's attention- like it had all weekend. She tugged up her tank top beneath her blankets and placed her palm against her bare stomach, rubbing in slow circles. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she wanted to lie closer to Brittany, but even having her in the general vicinity seemed soothing.

"Brittanyyyyy," Mercedes called, kicking the door wider and strolling in. She was holding out Brittany's phone. "Youuu got a teeext."

She was talking in that sing song voice that reminded Santana of the tone kids used to use in elementary school when one of them got in trouble.

Brittany held out her hand and Mercedes dropped it into it. There was a pause as Brittany read the text. Santana watched her face, trying to read her reaction, wondering who it was.

"Soooooo… How's Artie?" Mercedes asked, her sing song tone growing stronger.

Brittany shrugged. "He just wants to know what I'm up to. And I don't know if he means like my height or which math question I'm on."

"He means what are you doing?" Mercedes rolled her eyes and dropped onto the mattress on Brittany's other side.

Santana didn't take her eyes off Brittany's face. Not when it lit up in understanding at Mercedes translation of the text, and not when it pinched in concentration as she typed a reply.

"He likes you," Mercedes said matter-of-factly. When Brittany didn't look up from her typing Mercedes nudged her. "He likes you _a lot._"

"A lot?" Brittany frowned. "But we've only met like…once…"

"So? Ask him out!" Mercedes said.

"Really?" Brittany looked down at her phone, hesitating.

"Really. You guys will be _adorable._ Right Santana?"

Santana wanted to pretend like she hadn't heard. She had the fleeting urge to close her eyes and feign sleep but she realised that Mercedes and Brittany had both turned to look at her.

"Yeah. Yeah whatever."

On impulse, Santana swiped up her phone from the blankets and got to her feet, heading out of the TV room. "I gotta make a call," she muttered vaguely over her shoulder.

She wandered outside to Mercedes back porch and her eyes fell on the trampoline near the back corner of the garden. She approached it and pulled herself up, mauvering carefully over the springs.

The coolness of the evening made the material feel slightly damp, but the cold air was refreshing. It dulled the ache. She laid on her back and stared upwards.

It was a cloudy night, but hidden behind them was a full moon- parting the darkness with an eerily still light. Santana could see everything around her clearly, and yet it was dark. These kinds of nights never made sense to her, but she felt calmer.

Santana pressed her palm against her stomach again and turned her screen on, clicking into her contacts to Puck's name.

It rang and rang and rang and she cut the call off just as his voicemail activated. She drew her phone away. It bounced once and then lit up, vibrating and skittering back down the slope towards her.

Santana picked it up and held it up in front of her face, staring at the name flashing on the screen.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was almost drowned out by the music in the back ground. It made Santana's phone speaker rattle.

"Babe. Babe. You answered. Hiii."

"Hi."

Liv's laughter was loud and scattered erratically. "I miss you!"

"Liv I can't…I can't hear you," Santana called. "Go somewhere quieter!"

"Urgh." There was a rattle and then the sounds on the other end became muffled. Santana raised her eyes to the clouds and waited.

"This better?" Liv's voice was far more audible, and echoey- like she was in a bathroom.

"Yeah."

"Good. So. I have a bone to pick with you."

"You do? What?"

Liv was drunk. That was obvious. Her voice was loose with emotion when usually it was so clipped and abrupt. It put Santana on edge and made her cringe every time she heard it. She didn't know what was coming next, and she held her breath, scrunching her tank in the palm that had rested on her stomach.

"Yoouu have a new friend."

"What?" Santana blurted, her cheeks heating.

"I saw on Facebook. Mercedes put up pictures just before. You guys with a blond girl at a lake."

"Oh. Yeah."

Liv's voice was climbing in volume, but its tone wavered. Her words rolled on top of one another, slurred. "Is she your new best friend Santana? Did you replace me? I knew you would. Do you think she's prettier than me?"

"You're drunk."

"Fuck you Santana." Liv's voice had become stone cold sober.

"What?" Santana asked, her body flushing in panic.

"Nothing. So, Brittany. That's her name right? Is she my replacement?"

"No-no…I…"

"You said no one would replace me. Remember? I do. It was right before you…"

"Liv."

"What?"

"Stop." Santana felt sick again, and she drew her phone away from her ear as Liv's laughter blared through the speaker again. "Liv," she raised her voice, "stop."

"Fuck you," came the reply, whispered this time and full of venom. It made Santana's chest constrict.

"Please…"

"You'll miss me. She won't be enough."

Santana was silent. But the clouds above her were wavering through her tears.

"She won't," Liv slurred her voice growing fainter. Then the line went dead.

Santana let it beep in her ear, her face caving into her tears.

"Santana?" Brittany was standing at the side of the trampoline, holding a blanket and staring anxiously over at her.

Sniffing hurriedly, Santana dropped her phone and coughed.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Santana said. She took one shaky breath and then started to cry again.

"You're not okay," Brittany said softly.

Santana pressed her forearm against her face, her sobs jerking her shoulders up off the trampoline.

And then the jumping mat sunk as the springs unwound under Brittany's weight. Santana didn't move her arm, but she felt a blanket being draped over her.

Her body sloped closer into Brittany's from their combined weight on the springs. Then, lightly, Brittany's hand closed around her elbow and drew it away from her face.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Santana said. She tried to pull her arm out of Brittany's grip but it was surprisingly firm.

"What's wrong? San? Is it your tummy? Does it hurt?"

And then Brittany took her hand off of Santana's elbow and curved it across Santana's middle, pulling them close- even closer than they had been on the mattresses. Brittany was half under Santana, with her chin notched over Santana's shoulder.

The closeness was bitter sweet, and it made the ache spread from Santana's stomach to her chest, where it solidified- becoming hard and dark.

"Yeah," she managed. "It hurts."


	6. Never To Touch And Never To Keep

**Hello! **

**Uploaded real quick before I go away- so sorry for any mistakes. **

**Still up for an American beta if any one is keen? **

**Head over to my tumblr for questions (lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com).**

**Read and review :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Ch 5: Never to Touch and Never to Keep<strong>

Mercedes Dad dropped her, Brittany and Santana off at the boarding house on Sunday evening five minutes before lights out- which meant that they had no time for showers or unpacking. Santana hardly cared, she just dropped her bag, shrugged out of her coat and jeans and got into bed.

The dorm was so quiet that Santana was able to listen to the night matron's progress down the it- ticking off their names one by one. Tonight was Miss Pillsbury on duty- and as her thin voice called through the doors, Santana listened to the answering calls, mentally ticking off who was back from the weekend and who wasn't.

"Goodnight, Santana!" Miss Pillsbury reached Santana's door and lightly tapped on it.

"Night," Santana called back, pushing her face further into her pillow. Miss Pillsbury's keys clinked as she moved onto the next door.

"Goodnight, Lauren!"

"Night Miss P!"

"Night Rachel!"

"Goodnight Miss Pillsbury!"

Rachel's room was at the end of the hall, and after a moment Santana heard the tell-tale whine of the door into the stairwell which meant Miss Pillsbury was heading back down to the office. Immediately after this, Santana heard a door rattle open. She lay, staring at the wall near her face, listening to the footsteps pad closer. She expected them to head straight on past her room to the toilets but instead they stopped right outside her door.

Santana lifted her head and a second later someone knocked very softly. She flushed in expectation, turning over the possibilities in her mind. Her voice croaked dismally when she tried to answer the knock, so she had to clear her throat and try again.

"Yeah?" She struggled to sit upright against her pillows.

Santana's door opened slowly and a dark figure slipped inside, closing the door equally as slowly behind them. When they turned back around to face Santana she was taken by surprise.

Quinn's face wasn't the one she had been expecting.

She watched as Quinn shrunk lightly down on the end of her bed and tugged her knees up against her chest.

"What do you want?" Santana asked flatly.

Quinn shrugged and then smiled slightly. It was soft looking, and shy.

"How was your weekend?" She asked.

Santana frowned at her. "What do you want," she asked again.

The smile wavered off Quinn's face for a beat and then she gave up on it entirely, sighing and rolling her eyes.

"Can we both just get over what happened?"

"I don't know, can we?" Santana snapped.

"It was just a dumb joke."

"Yep."

They sat for a moment in charged silence and then Quinn untucked her legs and crawled up the bed- coming right up until she was sitting awkwardly across Santana's outstretched legs. She lent close and put her arms around Santana's neck.

Santana stiffened, blinking rapidly in an attempt to scatter the illusion. But Quinn's weight on her was real- warm and slightly suffocating. There was a familiar smell in her hair which wisped against Santana's cheek. The smell was one that Santana didn't associate with Quinn, but with someone else. It was too faint to distinguish who, exactly.

"I'm sorry," Quinn's voice vibrated into her ear, and Santana realised Quinn's lips were pressed right up against her neck.

A shiver rooted it's way up Santana's spine, and she lifted her hands, pressing her palms against the tops of Quinn's shoulders and pushing her back.

"What are you doing?" She asked when Quinn had brought her face back away from Santana's shoulder. Quinn took her arms back, and screwed her pyjama pants up into her fists. She didn't move off of Santana's legs and after a moment she started to cry.

Santana sat frozen, listening to the soft snobs and wet sniffs. She felt no desire to comfort Quinn, and that familiar smell was making her uneasy.

"I'm so stupid," Quinn said, her voice wobbling.

Santana didn't disagree. After a moment Quinn lowered her hands from her face and looked sideways at her.

"Say something," she demanded.

Santana took a slow breath, trying at abate the irritation that rose at Quinn's insistent tone.

"Why are you here?"

Quinn opened her mouth, on the cusp of a sentence. But then she dropped her eyes and shrugged.

"I just- I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Brittany's the one that deserves the apology," Santana cut across her. Quinn closed her eyes and nodded.

"I know. And I will. But I meant about last year...I…" She snapped her mouth shut and sniffed violently.

Santana waited.

"I…I'm just sorry," she finished lamely.

Santana opened her mouth, completely unprepared as to what words she was going to say. She was saved, however, by a violent vibration on her window sill that made them both jump. Santana pulled back her curtain and grabbed her phone.

Puck's name was flashing under 'incoming call'. Santana blinked down at it and then up at Quinn. Her face was lit from the screen and her eyes were on it, registering the name too. She started as though coming out of a trance and then she scooted off Santana's legs and stood up.

"Answer, if you want," she said softly, and then she turned and snuck back out of Santana's door.

But Santana didn't answer. She let the phone ring and ring and kept her eyes straight ahead, where Quinn had just been standing. As she had moved off of Santana's legs that familiar smell had brushed past Santana- stronger this time. And then familiarity became jolt of recognition as she stared down at the screen of her phone, Puck's name lit up underneath the banner '_one missed call_.'

* * *

><p>'Paradise' was a large sweep of grass that ran along the entire front side of Alexandra Academy- just inside the front stone wall. Like any large grassy area, it had its own divisions. There was the far end, by the pool, which was covered by two huge sprawling trees that dropped berries and made the grass around them sharp with sticks. The grass a little further down accommodated another large tree- a neat oak this time- and a sculpture by one of the past students. It looked to Santana like a melting spoon, though she'd never read its plaque.<p>

The other half of Paradise was split by a concrete path that led down to the running track and sports field. The smaller trees planted on the other side treated the sunlight more generously, and the grass was one clean, soft sweep. The tenth grade boarders had been lucky enough to secure a patch of grass there- amidst the clumps of haughty eleventh graders and the twelfth graders in their long skirts and lunches they had been able to buy from the cafe across the road.

The tenth graders patch of grass was in prime place for the afternoon sun, but they had had to settle for it being on a slope. The ones early to lunch were lucky enough to get to sit at plateau at the top of it, while everyone else had to sit on the slope itself or the shady grass at the bottom beneath the shadow of a nearby tree.

That Tuesday, Lauren was the only one that settled herself on the top of the slope- which seemed sort of fitting to Santana, because she was the one who had everyone's attention focused on her.

"So," she said, clapping her hands and rubbing them together, looking shrewdly down at them. "Are we all in?"

She'd just pitched her party idea for the weekend. Her parents were going away and she'd decided the best way to celebrate was to sneak two hours home and go nuts with their extensive alcohol collection.

Rachel was the only sceptical one.

"It's irresponsible Lauren, and you know, my Dads will want to call your Mom to make sure it's all okay."

Lauren shrugged, unfazed. "Kurt sounds just like my Mom, call him and get him to pretend to be her."

Rachel blinked at her. "B-but-"

Lauren made a hushing motion and then looked around at the others. "So you're all in?"

When they all nodded she looked satisfied and tossed Rachel her cell phone. "Call Kurt, ask him about the Mom thing, and then get him to get the other guys on board. Santana, you do the same with Puck."

Santana started, looking up from her task of biting patterns around the bruises in her apple. "What?"

"Call Puck, invite him and the guys to mine on Saturday."

"Oh," Santana nodded, "yeah. Right, okay."

She'd been distracted all day, though by what, she couldn't really say. She hadn't slept properly after Quinn had left her room the night before, her brain going a million miles over what had happened on the weekend. She'd been feeling weird because of her period, she'd decided. All hormonal and crap. But then she remembered how she'd felt when she had been pressed up against Brittany in Mercedes TV room.

She'd only gotten that beating between her legs a handful of times in her life. The one that was thick and heavy and made her feel some sort of nameless urgency. She had felt during the holidays- when she had been pressed beneath Puck on his bed, with his lips ghosting across her neck . In response she had tugged him close and kissed him more deeply. But the feeling was gone just as quickly as it arrived- like she'd chased it away.

But lying curled up against Brittany's hot skin, the beating had been so strong that Santana had had to bite her lip to stop herself groaning. It had scared her shitless but she had wanted more. She still wanted more.

Despite the sun streaming at her through the tree branches, Santana shivered at the memory. When she'd found out that Brittany had Cheerios practise during lunch, she'd felt the hollow sink of disappointment in her stomach, but now she just felt grateful that the only thing that could tie her stomach in knots were her thoughts.

She put down her apple in the grass and fumbled for her phone to type a text to Puck but after a moment she was distracted by a shout of laughter from Lauren.

"The internet makes things far too easy," she said, swiping her finger over the screen of her iPhone. "I created an event for the party in first period and it looks like you guys don't need to invite the boys because half of them have already accepted on here. There are 8 attending already and…"

Lauren's smile faltered into a frown. She bent closer to her screen.

"Oh crap," she muttered.

"What?" Rachel asked, wide eyed. "Did your Mom find out?"

Lauren shook her head no, but didn't offer another reason. Instead, her frown deepened and she cupped her hand around the screen, shading it from the sun light.

"Oh," she let out a gush of air and then looked up at them guiltily.

"What?" Mercedes and Tina asked in unison.

Lauren looked down at her screen again and then up, straight at Santana, wincing apologetically.

"I forgot to make the event private, and Liv...Liv clicked attending."

"What?" Santana repeated dumbly. She'd heard the words perfectly, but they hadn't made sense to her.

She felt the heavy weight of everyone's stares and her face grew hotter. But she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

It was Rachel who spoke instead, and Santana turned gratefully with everyone else to look at her.

"You'll have to uninvite her. Or, or just take it off Facebook or something."

"You think that'll stop her? She lives like twenty minutes from my place," Lauren reminded her. Santana's stomach sunk. She had forgotten that Lauren and Liv had come from the same town.

"Ooohh," Sugar said, looking frightened. "Quinn's going to be so pissed."

That comment sent everyone on another tirade about how to break the news to Quinn, and how to get everyone to the party without drama- which involved a suggestion from Rachel to hire bouncers to patrol Lauren's gate in case Liv arrived.

Santana lay back again the grass and put her arm over her face, taking steadying breaths. The thought of seeing Liv again made her feel sick and shaky, even though they'd talked since she left the boarding house. She could almost see Liv in her mind's eye- showing up at Lauren's and making everyone fall into orbit around her.

* * *

><p>"If she goes I'm not going." Quinn folded her arms as though it cemented her point. She, Amy, Emma and Brittany had joined Mercedes, Lauren, Sugar and Santana at their afternoon tea table and Lauren had broken the news about Liv.<p>

"Quinn," Amy wined, "you _have _to come. She won't show up. We'll tell the boys to get her to leave if she does."

"No," Quinn said flatly. "I'm not going if there's a chance I'll see her."

Santana's mouthful of sandwich felt heavy and suffocating. She'd chewed and chewed and chewed it until it had turned to mush that was on the verge of triggering her gag reflex.

She had avoided meeting Quinn's gaze, and she didn't want to be asked what she wanted to happen with Liv, so she just chewed and chewed robotically, her eyes on the tabletop.

The truth was she _did _want to see Liv. She didn't know why, but Santana needed to cement the fact that Liv hadn't been merely a figment of her imagination.

Brittany was sitting directly opposite Santana, and her mere presence was heavy in Santana's peripheral vision. They hadn't spoken properly since they'd gotten back from Mercedes's place, but Brittany always peppered her contribution to their conversations with soft smiles that Santana was steadily becoming addicted to- searching Brittany's conversations with other people for them.

Now, however, Brittany was leaning her elbow on the table top, her chin cupped in her palm, looking at Quinn. She had made no comment about Olivia coming to the party, but she was listening like she was weighing every word.

Santana looked at her and felt her throat ease. She stopped chewing and swallowed down the mush, pushing the plate containing the rest of the sandwich away from her.

"Santana?" Mercedes nudged her to draw her attention. She looked up to see everyone looking at her. Quinn's face was still stony with annoyance.

"What?"

"You have to text Liv and tell her not to come," Mercedes said earnestly- gesturing to Santana's phone on the table top.

Santana looked dumbly down at it.

"I don't think that'll do anything," she admitted.

"Just try," Sugar urged. "Just tell her...tell her…" She looked around at the others for help.

"Tell her that she's not welcome within ten feet of us," Emma suggested, looking at Quinn earnestly for approval. Quinn sniffed, her eyes trained on Santana.

After a pause Santana picked up her phone and typed the message.

_I don't think coming to Lauren's is such a good idea. _

She hovered her thumb over the send button, knowing it would be no use. Liv would ignore her and show up just to spite them.

"Send it," Quinn prompted, tapping a hand on the table.

"It won't work," Santana said, levelling her eyes on Quinn. "You know it won't work."

With a movement so sudden it made everyone at the table jump, Quinn scooted her chair back and stood up, shouldering her bag.

"Well if you don't send the text and she comes shit will hit the fan," she said loftily. Then she looked down at Amy, Emma and, surprisingly, Brittany. "We have to go," she said shortly.

In unison, Emma, Amy and Brittany stood. Santana watched with rising confusion as Brittany gathered her things together.

"Two Cheerios meetings in one day?" Lauren said with the tilt of surprise in her voice,

"No," Amy said, turning to them as she shrugged on her Cheerios jacket. "We're going to town to see the boys."

"Brittany has a date with Artie," Quinn said, zipping up her own jacket and sweeping her eyes over Brittany with a faint smile.

Mercedes and Sugar's squeals of excitement seemed dulled somehow. It was like Santana was sitting in a room all of her own, watching hazily as Brittany blushed and dropped her eyes to her feet, laughing off their questions.

As the four of them disappeared out of the dining room, Santana realised she couldn't stay at the table and listen to Sugar, Lauren and Mercedes analyse how far Artie and Brittany had gone and what might happen with them at Lauren's party. She stood up as abruptly as Quinn had and left them without saying goodbye.

The dorm was deserted when she reached it but Santana still hurried to her room and shut herself inside. And then suddenly her breath was hardly coming at all. She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth and exhaled into her palm.

As soon as Santana's breathing eased, the tears began. Her shuddering shoulders shook the door behind her and her sobs were panicky and dry in her throat. She forced herself not to question why she was upset, but Brittany and Liv kept swimming into her thoughts, a disconcerting mixture of Liv's laughter and Brittany's reddening cheeks.

Santana fumbled for her phone. The draft message she'd typed to Liv was still on the screen, and she jammed her thumb against the send button before she could stop herself. Then she threw her phone on her bed and swiped the back of her hand across her face. She felt a second wave of tears coming and she sniffed them back desperately, clenching her jaw. If she didn't cry, the feelings weren't real.

She pushed off of her door and yanked one of the drawers beneath her bed out with her foot, fishing out a pair of running shorts and a tank top and kicking her drawer closed again. She concentrated on changing rather than crying and then opened her closet to look for her running shoes.

* * *

><p>The rhythmic beat of Santana's feet against the sidewalk and the way her muscles and her lungs were forced to concentrate on keeping her moving calmed her. She didn't think. She just ran blindly, her eyes trained on the concrete whirling past.<p>

She headed around the familiar route she usually took when she ran- which hadn't been since the start of the year, before she and Liv became friends.

No, she couldn't think about Liv.

Santana shook her head and ran harder, lengthening her strides out as the path inclined steeply. She was heading up a nearby hill- called Mt St John. It was supposed to be used as some sort of reserve, but Santana had never seen anything in the trees there except pigeons. And there was a crude dirt path that had been worn around the circular dome of the hill- where hundreds of other joggers before her had ignored the 'keep out' sign at the entrance too.

The trees around the path created their own kind of quiet that didn't match with Santana's screaming muscles and surging lungs and heart. She stopped at the top of the steepest rise and stumbled off the path until she could see through the trees and out over the city. She doubled over, her breathing racing out of her control as she took in the view.

From up so high the buildings were miniature, the cars crawled past, and the people were non-existent. Santana felt relief wash over her. Like by sheer altitude she'd managed to untangle herself from all the things that had overwhelmed her in her bedroom. She had left her phone on her bed, so the possibility of Liv texting her back seemed far away and unimportant. And even though somewhere below her, Brittany and Artie were on their date, they would be so small Santana would never be able to see them. That's how insignificant they were. They didn't have to matter.

She cleared the sweat off her forehead and back-tracked through the trees to the path. When she reached it she ran harder than before, oddly enjoying the burn of her lungs. She didn't stop until she reached the main intersection near the boarding house. The 'don't walk' sign was illuminated and while the traffic rushed past she doubled over again, almost retching from the exertion.

"Santana!"

Santana snapped her mouth closed and looked up. Brittany, Quinn, Emma and Amy were approaching the intersection, coming from the direction of town. Brittany was skipping ahead of them, smiling. She waved when she saw Santana looking.

"Hey!" she called.

Santana waved back and then turned to the lights, praying that it would turn green so that she could cross before they caught up. But the flashing 'don't walk' sign stayed on and then Brittany had bounced up beside her, her ponytail swinging and her face lit up by a grin.

"Been for a run?"

"Yeah."

Brittany nodded. "Awesome. I bet you're good at it."

Santana didn't have time to ask Brittany why she thought that, because Quinn, Amy and Emma had arrived on her other side.

"Hi Santana," Quinn said slowly, flicking her eyes up and down Santana's outfit. "You look flustered."

"Yeah," Santana muttered, leaning against the traffic pole to stretch her calves so she wouldn't have to look at Quinn.

It soon became obvious that Quinn didn't need her to be looking to carry on speaking.

"We had a fun afternoon, didn't we Brittany?" Santana heard her ask.

"We did," came Brittany's reply.

Santana flexed her leg back further, gritting her teeth at the strain of her muscles.

"And hey, look! Isn't this cute?"

Santana drew her eyes up. Quinn had lifted Brittany's arm up so that her wrist dangled under Santana's nose and after a moment she focused on a thin, silver chain linked around it, with a heart dangling off of the clasp.

"Oh, you got that today?" She looked up at Brittany who blushed, pressing her lips together and nodding.

"It's nice."

"Thanks." Brittany took her wrist back from Quinn and encircled it in the fingers of her other hand- covering the bracelet.

"Artie got it for her," Quinn said.

Behind Santana, the buzzer for the crossing sounded. She managed a vague smile in Brittany's direction and then she spun on her heel and jogged off- faster than she'd intended.

It didn't take her long to get back to the boarding house, and she stopped outside the doors, panting and exhausted but wanting to run further, harder. She would run back up Mt St John if it weren't for the fact that it was nearly 5.30. She could see Lauren and Sugar just inside the automatic doors, laden with shopping backs. Sugar waved, beckoning Santana inside.

As Santana started forwards she looked briefly to her right, down the road she had just run. She could see Amy, Emma, Quinn and Brittany walking towards her. They were so far away that Santana found it hard to tell them apart.

That night in Prep Santana lay on her bed with her pillow over her head. She had homework, but it seemed like the least relevant thing in the world. She'd checked her phone when she'd gotten back from her run but Liv hadn't text her back. Santana didn't know why, but that made her feel even sicker.

She inhaled against her pillow, breathing in the slight scent of her own shampoo. She thought the run would have exhausted her but her brain was still churning.

What made her feel the worst was that god damn bracelet Brittany had been wearing. And the fact that it been _Quinn _Brittany had gone with to town. Half a week ago Quinn had been trying to get Brittany expelled. And now they were hanging out and Quinn was helping her with Artie.

Santana squeezed her eyes closed and pressed the pillow harder against her face. And then she whispered against it, the material muffling her voice.

"Please."

She didn't know who she was talking to, or even what she was asking for. But it seemed somehow to hit at the truth.

"Please." She whispered again. And then she started to cry.

* * *

><p>"How much does your bag weigh Rachel? This should be illegal." Mercedes was doubled over, tugging with both hands on Rachel's wheelie bag. Rachel was tottering behind her, swamped with several more bags.<p>

Santana and Lauren were following behind them, and had already had to stop several times to stop Rachel toppling over.

"I've had to bring my own food because Lauren's family isn't vegan or gluten free," Rachel protested, hiking one of her shoulder bags higher.

The whole grade had planned to bus the two hour trip up to Lauren's place. And to save money, Rachel had suggested they walk to the bus terminal instead of taxi-ing.

For everyone else, who'd had the sense to bring only one or two bags, the walk wasn't that hard. But for the likes of Rachel and Sugar, who had four or five, it was a struggle. Sugar was ahead of Rachel and Mercedes- her arms covered in straps and the bags dangling around her legs like some kind of decoration. Beside her, Brittany was walking easily under the weight of two of her own as well as one of Sugars. She kept on getting too far ahead of everyone and having to stop and wait. Occasionally, she'd catch Santana's gaze and smile, wide and bright. Instead of giving Santana that weird soaring feeling that she'd felt before, it made the bags she was carrying seem heavier. And when she forced herself to smile back it felt like her face had been frozen and her skin was about to crack.

Behind Lauren and Santana, Emma, Tina, Amy and Quinn were all arguing over who would sit together. Tina was vying for Emma, because she was the only one who'd had the foresight to charge her laptop so they could watch movies. But from what Santana could hear, Amy was putting up a decent fight. All Quinn cared about was getting a window seat.

The bus was already parked and ready by the time they arrived, sweating and puffy and grumpy. Halfway there Mercedes had gotten sick of Rachel and dumped her bag in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a minor pile-up as first Lauren, then Emma tripped over it. Brittany was the one who picked it up, shushed a highly affronted Rachel, and bounced back to the front of the line. At this rate, Santana thought as they lined up near the luggage bays beneath the bus to hand the driver their bags, Brittany would be the only one in any fit state to sit by Rachel.

Santana looked further up the line to where Brittany was standing- she had on flowery tights and a long white knitted sweater that came down to her thighs. Her hair was tied up- like she usually had it done for school, but a colourful braid snaked its way into the pony-tail too. Santana followed it with her eyes as Brittany ducked down to help the driver with all the bags she'd been carrying.

Santana wanted to reach out and run her fingers along it. But instead she was shunted from behind by a sweating Lauren. The bus driver's assistant was holding out his hand, gesturing for her to hurry up. Brittany had bounded up the steps and disappeared into the bus above her. Santana handed her bags over and tried not to walk too quickly to follow Brittany.

When she arrived at the beginning of the aisle, all she could see were the tops of heads. She walked hesitantly down it, scanning for a free seat beside anyone who wasn't Rachel or Quinn. She passed Mercedes and Sugar sitting together, then a bunch of strangers, then Quinn and Tina. Directly behind them Emma and Amy already had their headphones plugged into Emma's laptop.

Two rows full of strangers later, Santana spotted Brittany who, sure enough, was sitting in the aisle seat to Rachel's window seat. When she spotted Santana her face lit up in a way that made Santana's breath catch. And she knew that even without sitting beside Brittany, that just that look would last her the whole bus ride.

"There's a seat" Rachel said, pointing her arm past Brittany to the pair of free seats opposite them.

Santana took the window seat and looked out of it at the people still lined up below her dropping off their luggage. After a moment she leant her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, trying to drown out Rachel's voice.

Sooner than she had expected, Santana felt the Lauren sink into the seat next to her and heard the crackle of plastic wrapping. She opened her eyes and saw an open packet of M&Ms being waved near her lap.

"Want one?"

Brittany had taken in the empty seat beside her. Her expression was soft. So soft Santana could sink into it.

"I'm okay. Thanks though." Brittany pulled the packet back and sat it in the dip between her knees. She folded the top over neatly.

"I love bus rides," she said, sighing happily. "Do you?"

Santana looked sideways at her, letting herself take in the eyes she had been avoiding all week.

"Sometimes," she replied. "They can get pretty freaking boring though."

Brittany grinned, ducked her head and then dug into the M&Ms and plopped a plethora of colors into her cheeks.

"Only if you let them," she said, chewing. Then she offered the opening of the bag to Santana again and Santana signed, rolled her eyes and hooked her fingers into the bag, curling them around a few.

She had just piled them into her mouth when she spotted Lauren rising up the stairs at the front of the bus. Brittany had spotted her too because she folded the bag back up and smiled sideways at Santana.

"I better let Lauren have her..."

Before Santana could process the thought, she'd reached out and placed her palm against Brittany's knee.

Brittany looked at her inquisitively.

"Stay here. Lauren can sit by Rachel."

Brittany hesitated. "But I... I don't think Lauren will be okay with that."

"I don't care," Santana said, boldly.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Brittany was skilled in the area of travel entertainment. After only ten minutes into the trip, she had engaged Santana in what turned out to be one of the most eccentric games of eye-spy she'd played in her life. Everything from the patterns on the bus seats to the veins on the inside of ones eyelids were fair game.<p>

After that they had a series of furious pea-knuckle wars- which resulted in Santana laughing so hard she got a bellyache and the old woman in front of them rounded in her seat and pressed a finger against her lips, her eyes wide and her eyebrows almost up in her hairline.

Beside Santana, Brittany went pink and began muttering apologies, her face turned down to her lap. Feeling a surge of protectiveness, Santana raised her eyebrows at the woman, simultaneously nudging Brittany with her elbow to get her attention.

When she was sure Brittany was looking, Santana slowly and deliberately stuck her tongue out at the woman.

If the woman looked offended, it was nothing to her expression when Santana lifted her hand, hollowed her fist like she was holding something, and jerked in up and down several times.

The woman gasped, spluttered and turned hurriedly back in her seat. Immediately, Santana looked sideways for her reward. And sure enough, Brittany was grinning, trying her hardest to suppress a laugh.

By the time they reached the main street of Lauren's town, she and Brittany were tucked together underneath Santana's zip up hoodie to combat the buses air conditioning- which was going even though the warmth of the day had disappeared into the evening.

And even though the sun had gone down, Santana would have sworn black and blue that she only lived 5 minutes away from Alexandra, rather than two hours. The bus trip had gone far too fast.

When the bus reached Lauren's driveway, they all piled out onto the dim street and stood stiff legged, waiting for their bags to be unloaded. Once they had all gathered their things together and the bus had rumbled away down the road, they turned to the dark shadow of Lauren's house at the end of her driveway.

It was that exact moment which Rachel chose to have a second panic attack about all the rules they were breaking and exactly how unsupervised they were going to be that weekend.

And, after two hours of sitting beside her, Lauren had reached the end of her tether.

"One more word Rachel, and you shall spend the weekend in my neighbor's sex dungeon. I shall personally volunteer you to be their gimp."

"But I..." Rachel stopped half way through her protest and went completely still, her eyes wide and frightened, fixed down the driveway at Lauren's house.

"There's someone... Someone's inside. Look!" She pointed wildly.

Everyone froze, and then Santana felt Brittany edge closer against her side.

"I see someone too- in the front window," she said in a shaky voice.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Lauren whispered furiously, stepping backwards back down the drive.

Quinn rounded on her.

"What are you doing?" she snapped. "We have nowhere else to go. Just go and lie to them."

Santana felt her own anxiety rising. She'd never met Lauren's parents before, but she was pretty sure they wouldn't react kindly to ten girls randomly showing up on their doorstep.

Lauren took several steps forward, hitching her glasses up the bridge of her nose and squinting into the window.

Santana squinted too, and she could just make out a figure standing in the front window.

The figure lifted an arm and waved.

There was a frightened whimper from behind her and Santana knew without having to look that it was Rachel.

"Who is..." Sugar began, but she stopped abruptly. And Santana knew why.

The figure had turned on a light inside, and their illuminated face shone clearly through the window. Their features were as clear and familiar as though Santana was looking at her own relfection.


	7. Sugar, We're Going Down

**Hi :) **

**Thanks to my beta ****T97Carolina and also Mellowslinky for reading this over. **

**Hope you enjoy it! **

**If you have any questions or suggestions you can leave an ask in my Tumblr: lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com**

**Ch 6: Sugar, We're Going Down**

Rachel was the first to recover from the shock- which turned quickly into fury. She dropped her bags on the driveway with a clatter and started forwards towards the house.

"Puckerman!" She called shrilly. "I can't believe this. Get out here!"

Puck's grin widened as he saw her coming, and then he disappeared from behind the front window, seconds later reappearing as he opened the front door.

Rachel walked right up to him and punched him on the arm.

"Noah this is highly irresponsible; not to mention _illegal._ It's called breaking and entering, and God knows what would have happened if you'd have been caught!"

Puck ruffled her hair and brushed past her, flashing his grin at Lauren.

"The hiding place for your spare key is number four on the list of most obvious places to hide keys." He pointed with his foot towards an old pair of dusty boots beside the welcome mat, their openings crisscrossed with cobwebs. "Honestly, Zizes, you were kinda asking for it."

Lauren had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "I can't say I'm glad it was you lurking around inside my house. But," she shrugged, "it could have been worse."

Rachel was still furious.

"No, no, Lauren, he should not be allowed to get away with this. I…"

Puck batted her good-naturedly away again and nodded over Lauren's shoulder at the rest of them.

"Hey, ladies."

"You're a loser Puck," Mercedes shook her head.

"I thought I'd surprise you guys," he shrugged.

"Surprised is putting it mildly," Tina muttered.

Puck's grin widened as he spotted Santana.

"Hey," he nodded at her. They hadn't seen one another in a week and had hardly texted at all. Santana felt distant from him, and the sight of his face in the window had only turned her panic into a cool sort of resignation. Puck arrived against her and slung his arms around her waist, kissing her on the lips.

"You could have told me," she muttered, not moving her hands from the straps on her bags. Puck pulled away and rolled his eyes.

"That was part of the fun!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Fun?"

"You'll see," Puck said, a suggestive smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Once they'd gotten all their bags inside, Lauren directed them to the basement, which had a TV and a stack of spare mattresses. As Puck and Santana went to follow the others, Lauren stuck out her arm, blocking the doorway.

"Na-uh," she shook her head. "I know you don't deserve this favor, Puckerman, but I'll be damned if I have to listen to any shuffling in a dark corner tonight." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "You two are back down the hall in the guest bedroom."

Beside Santana, Puck whooped and pulled Lauren into a hasty one armed hug. When he pulled away he took Santana's hand and led her down the hall.

The guest bedroom was nice- with a high, plush looking bed and a bathroom all of its own. Santana dumped her bags by the corner of the door and looked at the photographs of a young Lauren in her glory days as a toddler pageant winner. Lauren must have forgotten they were hung up there otherwise Santana was sure she never would have allowed them within two feet of the room.

"Oh my God, these are golden," Santana laughed, stepping closer to look at the one on the bedside table. Lauren had a tutu on and two bright pink blotches of blush on her cheeks.

"Look at this," Puck said. Santana saw that he'd sprawled himself out across the bed, and was moving his arms up and down like he was trying to make a snow angel with the bed sheets. "All this space, just for us. And I bet that door looks pretty awesome closed, too."

Santana looked at him incredulously. "I don't think so," she countered, but she approached the bed anyway.

As soon as she was within reach, Puck sat up, cupped the back of her thighs in his palms, and pulled her forwards until she nearly toppled over into his lap. She used his shoulders to steady herself.

"Don't."

"Shh," he tugged her closer and kissed her cleavage. She squeezed his shoulders harder, but the pressure from his hands made her knees buckle and they came down on the edge of the bed. At the new angle Puck could get his lips higher- to Santana's neck. He kissed the skin there open mouthed.

Her breath caught.

"Uh. Lauren wants to know what you did with their spare key."

Santana looked around to see Quinn hovering near the doorway. Her eyes were hard, looking straight over Santana's shoulder to Puck.

"Uh," Puck had to clear his throat to get his voice less hoarse. "On the side table in the foyer, I think."

Quinn dropped her eyes and disappeared. Santana turned back around to Puck, remembering that familiar smell she'd caught on Quinn earlier in the week. Puck's smell, Santana was sure. She could smell it on him now. On herself, too, because of how close they'd been. Puck's gaze stayed locked over her shoulder where Quinn had just been, and suddenly, Santana felt panicky and shaken. She squeezed his shoulders again, and he looked up at her.

"What was that?"

Puck blinked. "What?"

"That…" she tossed her head in the direction of the door.

"Oh," Puck cleared his face of any confusion and drew her closer, "just pissed she interrupted."

Santana strained against his grip and got to her feet, straightening her clothes. "There was nothing to interrupt," she said coolly and left him on the bed.

Down in the basement, the others had set up their beds in haphazard clumps around the TV. It reminded Santana of Mercedes's house, and she sought out Brittany's pillow with the fish patterned cover. She smiled when she saw it placed carefully on a neatly made bed. By the looks of the fluffy pink blanket on the mattress beside it, Brittany was sleeping next to Sugar.

The others were in the far corner of the basement, grouped around the copious amounts of alcohol Puck had brought with him. Lauren and Sugar were crouched down investigating the three crates of beer, while Tina, Amy, and Emma were all tugging a bottle of peach schnapps back and forth between them, each sharing drunken stories. Mercedes had latched on to a bottle of Absinthe, telling an alarmed looking Brittany that it was illegal in some states.

"Where does Puck get all this stuff?" Emma turned to Santana

"Uh," she shrugged. "I never ask."

"That attitude is probably why you're still dating him," Amy muttered.

Santana stilled. "_What?" _

"Nothing," Amy said airily, waving a hand at Santana while sharing a pointed look with Emma.

Santana felt her cheeks heat up and she took a threatening step forward. "Tell me what you said…"

"_Nothing..._geez…" Amy said, shrinking back from Santana and giving her a withering look. "There's no need to be such a psycho."

"Such a…" Santana broke away into a breathy laugh of disbelief. "Just a hint, keep your face out of my relationship, because you really don't know shit about it."

"Don't I?" Amy challenged.

"Would both of you just shut the fuck up?" Quinn burst out from beside Brittany, making everyone jump. She was pink cheeked, and her gaze was hard like it had been when she'd asked Puck about the spare keys.

"Excuse me…" Santana started, rounding on her. But she was stopped by Lauren, who stood up and took Santana by the shoulders.

"Alright, ladies, save the wrestling for _tomorrow _night."

"Yes, I agree, let's not spoil the evening," Rachel added. "There's the more pressing matter of what we're going to have for dinner- it is nearly seven, after all."

"I feel like a Lost Boy," Brittany said suddenly. There was a ripple of laughter- with even Quinn and Amy softening. But Santana couldn't laugh; she just stood and watched Brittany send a small smile straight at her.

* * *

><p>Dinner that night turned out to be an eclectic mix of Doritos, Twizzlers and Rachel's special bran crackers –a combination that made Santana think that they weren't too far from being Lost Boys.<p>

Everyone had moved to their own beds to pig out in front of the TV; the air was full of shrieks and clattering as the packets of food were thrown back and forth across the room. From her bed in the prime space in front of the TV, Lauren kept shushing them. She'd connected her computer up to the TV and was trying to get them all as obsessed as she was with a late-nineties show called Freaks and Geeks.

Since they had no bed down in the basement, Santana and Puck were sharing the couch that had been pushed to the side of the room to accommodate everyone's mattresses. It was only a two seater so they were curled tightly together, Puck encircling her with his arms. He had one hand under the blanket spread over them, and he inched it up Santana's thigh, batting away the hem of her skirt like it was some irritating fly. He had no interest in the show or in any of the packets of food being passed around, and he was making it increasingly obvious.

"Let's go to bed," he breathed into Santana's ear.

"Soon," she muttered, nudging his chin back with her shoulder.

The truth was Santana wasn't interested in the show either. She tried her best to follow the storyline, but every time something funny happened her ears would only seem to register the tone of Brittany's laughter. And every time she looked Brittany's way she'd see her fixated on the screen of her phone, tapping the buttons in a furious texting rhythm. Annoyance was beginning to creep up upon Santana, tightening her jaw and hunching her shoulders.

The next time Puck shifted to whisper again, his hand still insistently stroking, Santana agreed before he'd even gotten the suggestion out. She stood up, pulling him with her.

"We're going to bed now," she announced, lifting a foot to maneuver around Tina and Mercedes' mattresses, which were the closest. They were looking up at her, snickering.

"Oh, grow up," Santana aimed a half-hearted kick in their vicinity. At the door to the basement Santana paused and looked back. Everyone was looking over their shoulders at her and Puck. Most were giggling like Tina and Mercedes, but Rachel and Lauren both had their eyebrows raised suspiciously. Quinn was the only one not paying them any attention. Her figure was stiff backed and turned resolutely to the TV screen. Santana looked instinctively up at Puck to see if he'd registered that fact too, but he was too preoccupied in trying to edge Santana further up the stairs.

"Niiight," Sugar called through a mouthful of Doritos, waving a hand in the air, narrowly missing Brittany's head. She'd also turned around, and Santana could make out that stupid smile directed her way again.

"Night, San," she said.

Puck gave his hardest tug yet on Santana's arm at the same time as Brittany's phone lit up amidst the blankets in her lap. She looked down at it and Santana let Puck lead her up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Puck was lying in bed waiting when Santana returned from their bathroom in her pajamas, clutching her dirty clothes against herself. He was shirtless, his arms bent and his hands tucked under his head, propping it up so he could grin at her.<p>

She put her clothes and still damp toothbrush on top of her bag and walked over to the bed, slipping underneath the blankets Puck had pulled back for her. As soon as her body met the bulk of the mattress, he rolled closer and threaded an arm underneath her, tucking her against his chest.

The skin there was hot- almost scalding- against Santana's face and it had a thick, musky smell, tinged by his deodorant. Santana inhaled, trying to let it settle her, but for some reason, that smell combined with the crispness of her toothpaste made her feel queasy. She lifted her cheek off his chest and took a breath further away.

"You okay?" Puck asked, his voice low and husked.

"Yeah, just tired," she murmured, settling her head back down against him.

"Too tired to..." He nudged her.

"Yes," she said, unease pricking at her.

There was a heavy pause and Puck shifted his palm up the curve of her waist until his fingers were fanned across her ribs. He kissed the top of her head.

"It's not scary," he said quietly.

Santana stiffened. This was the vein their arguments always travelled down.

"I know that," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"But you don't 'cause you've never done it. I promise it'll feel real good and..." Puck's voice had risen now, taking on the air and earnestness of those Jehovah's Witness people who came to your door ready to preach you into the ground.

"Puck," her voice was strained- half a plea, "don't."

"But babe," he sat up on his elbow. "This is the perfect time. We're alone, and there are no parents, and..."

"Tomorrow night," she blurted out.

Puck's face, so near her own, lit up. "Really?"

"Really," she said, dropping her eyes to the skin on his chest. She brushed her fingers lightly across it. "I'm just too tired tonight." She dropped back onto her own pillow for good measure.

"Mmm," he murmured, rolling with her and sinking his mouth heavily to hers. His kiss was hot and urgent, making both their breaths come jaggedly through their noses.

"Stop," she managed when Puck rolled further on top of her, groaning into her mouth. His hands were below the blankets shifting up her tank top. "Stop," she said again.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned, his hands now curving up her rippling stomach.

"Puck," she said louder, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing.

He sighed heavily and rolled off of her, slumping back against his pillow and slinging an arm up over his face.

"Jesus Christ," Santana heard him mumble in a bitter voice.

Santana rolled over on her side to face him. She felt tense, and guilty, and close to tears. She'd learned that not giving boys what they wanted would make the chase more inciting, threaded with excitement. But now she wasn't so sure.

She wasn't sure of many things these days. But as she watched the dim features of Puck's face under his arm, trying to read what he was feeling, she felt almost sick at the thought of him losing interest. Because at least when he wanted her, it was a buffer between everything that terrified her. Somehow it worked to ward off those squirming feelings she got from someone else's smiles and the touch of their bare skin during a scary movie.

Those thoughts chased her across the mattress back to him. She gently pulled his arm off of his face.

"I said tomorrow, and I mean it. Alright?"

"Alright," he echoed grimly, his eyes directed resolutely at the ceiling.

Santana's panic was white hot now. She scrambled for more; for something to loosen the aloofness in his voice.

"But until then…" She put her palm carefully against the plains of his stomach and edged it down beneath the weight of the blankets. When her fingertips met the ridged waistband of his boxers Santana felt Puck's breath hitch in his chest and then release in a long, loud gush. His hand came up to curl slowly around the back of her head, tangling his fingers through her hair. Then he closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Santana woke up to the sound of a very heated discussion coming from what seemed like right next to her head. She blinked her eyes open, flicked the sleep away from the corners and tried to get some bearing on the situation. She and Puck were alone in the sun stifled room, he was still asleep, snoring softly, oblivious.<p>

"I only…no listen…" Rachel's voice travelled down the hall towards them and then Lauren's voice, louder still, interrupted.

"You only half destroyed the contents of my fridge. I made Mom buy all that especially and…"

"There were two buckets of fried chicken in there Lauren. _Two! _And for breakfast it's just…"

"You scattered it on the front lawn! _Two buckets!" _ Lauren's voice rose.

"_For the birds," _Rachel annunciated like Lauren was deaf.

"It's chicken!" Lauren shrieked. "That's like cannibalism! It's how foot and mouth disease was invented."

"Diseases aren't _invented, _Lauren," Rachel said in a mock dumb voice.

"Says the girl who fed chicken to birds!"

Chuckling, Santana got out of bed and plucked one of Puck's sweatshirts from the pile of clothes by his bag, shrugging it over her head. She pulled the door open right on Lauren squaring Rachel off, clutching a crumpled empty bucket of chicken.

"Erm. Morning?" Santana tried.

"Morning, Santana," Rachel said quickly, taking several steps back from Lauren.

"What's, uh…what's going on?"

"Well I started to make everyone a healthy breakfast and then Lauren came in and got upset because I threw out her old fried chicken buckets."

"I heard," Santana said, raking her fingers through her hair.

"My lawn," Lauren gritted out, "is covered in bits of it. Rachel you will go out there and you will pick every single bit of it up even if it kills you."

As Rachel opened her mouth to object Santana brushed past them, heading for the kitchen.

Rachel had made fruit and oatmeal in a large mixing bowl and Santana heaped some into a smaller bowl while she waited for the coffee to be ready. She ate alone in the kitchen, listening to the muffled sounds of Lauren's instructions and Rachel's complaints coming from the back yard.

"Mmm, oatmeal?" A sunny voice sounded behind her. Santana swiveled on her stool to see Brittany, in tiny pajama shorts and a tank, her hair done neatly up in a bun at the top of her head. She looked fresh and bright and insanely awake for this time in the morning. Santana still felt sleep raking at the inside of her eyelids, and she bet her hair made her look like something off of The Ring.

Brittany propped herself up on the stool beside Santana, tugged the large bowl towards her, and grabbed a spoon from the pile Rachel had set on the counter. She dug into it.

Santana paused to watch her chew, her eyebrows raised to see Brittany's reaction. After a moment, Brittany ducked her head to swallow and then shot a look at Santana.

"Are you looking forward to tonight?" she asked, lining up her next spoonful.

Santana shrugged, "kind of."

"It'll be funny to see everyone drunk."

"There's _a lot _of alcohol," Santana agreed.

"Are you nervous?"

Santana looked up in surprise. It was almost like Brittany had taken the thoughts about what she'd promised Puck out of her head.

"Nervous…"

"About Liv coming. Everyone seems nervous and I thought because you and her are friends…"

"We aren't friends," Santana corrected automatically. She was on autopilot as she remembered that Liv was probably going to show up. The oatmeal she'd eaten felt thick and heavy in her stomach.

"Sorry," Brittany said, her spoon hovering over her bowl as she looked at Santana. "It's just everyone said last night that you two were super close."

"When did they say that?" Santana narrowed her eyes.

"When you and Puck went to bed."

"We were close," Santana said slowly, fixing her eyes on the bench just past Brittany's elbow. "Not so much anymore."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Santana knew exactly, but instead she shrugged.

"When she left school, I guess."

"The others said…"

"Hey, guys."

Santana and Brittany looked around to see Mercedes, Tina, and Sugar trailing into the kitchen- their hair mussed and their eyes bleary.

"Why's Lauren making Rachel pick shit up off the grass?" Sugar asked, pouring herself coffee into Santana's already empty mug.

"Don't ask," Santana warned.

"Is this…" Mercedes was pointing at the oatmeal in the mixing bowl gingerly. "Is this Lauren's sad excuse for a breakfast?"

"No, Lauren's excuse for breakfast is spread all over the back lawn. That's Rachel's," Santana said.

Mercedes took several steps back with her face screwed up.

"I'd dig in if I were you," Tina said, navigating Lauren's cupboards and pulling out a bowl of her own. "We'll have to keep ourselves fueled if we're going to survive the day. You just know we'll have a butt load to do before the party."

Now that Tina pointed it out, Santana had to agree with her. She'd seen a flash of Lauren's living room on her way to the kitchen- and it was _posh. _Like… Professionally carpet cleaned posh. You wouldn't know it by looking at Lauren, but Santana had a feeling her family were the "professionally clean" type.

"She'd have to be crazy to have it in here," Tina said, munching on the oatmeal and peering around.

"That means we're going to have to clean out the garage or something," Mercedes huffed.

"Well I'd rather clean out the garage than the basement. I just made my bed perfectly, and _no one _is going to ruin it," Sugar said warningly, passing her eyes over everyone.

"It's true," Brittany said, nodding and swallowing. "She folded the sheet over the top of her duvet and everything."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Mercedes' prediction was right. Once they were all up and out of bed, showered and, in Rachel's case, thoroughly clean from any residual chicken goop, Lauren led them all to the garage. It was piled so high full of junk that Santana knew there was no way any car could fit in there. Not even those weird Asian bubble cars. Puck took one look at the mess, passed his hand through his mo-hawk and shook his head.<p>

"It's beer o'clock," he muttered, turning and walking out of the garage.

Lauren turned to them apologetically. "My Mom is a hoarder. She likes…"

"…pottery?" Quinn asked, gingerly squeezing past two waist high stacks of roughly molded pots.

Lauren shrugged.

"More like containers in general. All those boxes," she gestured to the piles around the walls, "are mostly empty…Or filled with other boxes. So we just have to collapse them and pile them up in the basement."

"Let's collapse and watch TV at the same time," Amy suggested, moving forwards to heap a bunch of boxes into her arms and headed back in the direction of the basement. Agreeing, Emma, Quinn, Tina, and Mercedes grabbed boxes of their own and followed her.

"Alright, well they're on boxes, obviously," Lauren nodded. "And I need some of you to shift the pottery and Tupperware too."

After a pause, Rachel and Sugar moved to grab some of the pots.

"Good," Lauren said, "just stack them outside around the back of the garage."

Then she turned to Brittany and Santana.

"Actually, I'm glad both of you are lazy shits and didn't offer to help because I have some errands for you to run in town. I would go and do them myself but the last time I left this place unattended someone broke in, and someone else spread chicken all over my lawn."

Brittany snorted. Lauren sighed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Follow me," she said, gesturing wearily.

She led them back into the kitchen where she presented Brittany with a list and Santana with a credit card.

"Pin number is at the top of the list" she said; marching them to the front door. The bus leaves from the street over in ten minutes, and for the love of God, please, take Puckerman with you."

The excitement and anticipation didn't hit Santana until Puck refused point blank to move from the couch in the basement and spending the afternoon alone with Brittany became a reality.

They reached Lauren's mailbox, and Brittany danced forwards into the street, brushing her hands lightly across a hedge of flowers so that they swayed and bounced on their stems. Santana watched her skip ahead, grinning like an idiot and soaring on the inside.

After a few steps, Brittany whirled around, doing an odd backwards skip-hop so that she could look at Santana.

"You wanna know something funny that's on the list?" She asked brightly, waving it in the air.

"What?" Santana asked, lengthening her stride to keep up. Brittany stilled and held the paper up to her face so she could read.

"It says times two buckets of fried chicken."

"What?" Santana took the list off of Brittany and stopped to read it too. It was written at the very bottom. "Na-uh, there's no way I'm walking around this town carrying two buckets of chicken."

"But it's on the list," Brittany said, conflicted.

"Not anymore," Santana neatly ripped the bottom off, scrunching it up and tossing it into a nearby mailbox. Brittany grinned so wide her head jerked backwards.

* * *

><p>The bus trip into town turned out to be just as amusing as the one down to Lauren's place. The seats were too small, which meant they were jammed hard against one another, jostling together every time the bus surged forward through an intersection. Brittany seemed to have a talent for spotting random happenings out the window- like the homeless lady she pointed out who was walking with a cat perched on her shoulder. Every person who got on the bus and walked past them to find a seat received a 'hello' and a buoyant smile.<p>

By the time they got the supermarket Santana's cheeks were aching from her own smiles. She grabbed a cart while Brittany stood near the entrance, consulting the list.

"We should be able to get all of this here…" she said, when Santana pushed the cart near her.

"Good," Santana said, pausing to let Brittany through the automatic doors. "What's up first?"

They worked well together- Brittany would go on ahead up the aisle, find the right thing and then skip back to Santana for her approval. Santana couldn't help but smile as she watched Brittany weave her way through people, stopping to let them pass and smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet like she was having the time of her life.

It registered to Santana that the last time she'd been in a supermarket was with Brittany as well. In the cat food aisle. She smiled at that, doubting that she'd ever be able to think of cat food and not recall Brittany sending it to her cat as a secret admirer. It made her smile, too, to think that she and Brittany kind of had a _thing._ Granted, that _thing_ was a cat aisle in a supermarket, but it had been the first time Santana had known that she could just _be _around Brittany- with no answers and no reasons.

"Hey, you, stop skiving off your cart pushing duties." Brittany hip bumped Santana lightly, smiling as Santana blinked and registered her presence. She held up a packet of sparkly pink and purple colored straws. "Will these do?"

"Sugar will like them," Santana conceded.

"Good enough for me," Brittany tossed them in. "Next on the list is… Mixers…"

"Coke and juice and stuff," Santana nodded, wheeling the cart around. "I'm pretty sure we passed them a couple of aisles back."

Ten minutes later, they wheeled the cart into the parking lot full of bags. Santana was of half a mind to wheel it right to the bus stop- because she knew it would probably cost her several fingers to try to carry them all down the road. But Brittany was tugging the front of the cart good naturedly towards the cart drop off, humming again. Santana didn't know what song the tune belonged to, but she started humming, too, loud enough for Brittany to toss a beaming over-the-shoulder smile in her direction.

The sudden blast of a horn from a passing car made them both jump and the smile fell spectacularly off of Brittany's face. The horn blared again and Santana spun wildly around, trying to find its source.

"Santana, hey!" A sleek, black range rover had pulled up into the vacant parking lot nearby, and Sam was hanging out of the back window, waving cheerfully. The front window lowered, and Kurt appeared, looking over the tops of his sunglasses at Santana, and wiggling his fingers at her.

"Well if it isn't my third favorite Fag Hag," He grinned.

"_Third?" _She asked in mock incredulity, turning the cart around and heading over to the car. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brittany following.

"You two pretty ladies want a ride?" Kurt said, dropping his voice and roughening it.

Santana laughed. "Actually, for once I'm going to accept." She turned to Brittany. "Britt this is Kurt, another boarder at Andrews' Academy. Kurt, this is…"

"Brittany," Kurt said promptly, nodding. "Artie's little flame." He giggled and then turned to Finn in the front passenger seat. "She's _cute_," he muttered.

Santana tensed.

Finn leaned forwards in the front passenger seat to see past Kurt.

"Hey, guys!" He waved. "Hop in. There's room in the back with Sam coz Mike went with Artie and his Dad in their special car."

"And Sam'll get out and help you with your bags," Kurt said, looking pointedly in the rearview mirror at him.

Before Santana knew it, she and Brittany were cramped in Kurt's back seat beside Sam, the bags of groceries littered all around their feet. Kurt struck up a conversation with Brittany about Disney while Sam and Finn quizzed Santana about how much alcohol Puck had gotten for them.

When they pulled into Lauren's driveway, the garage door was up and Santana was surprised to see it nearly empty of clutter. Rachel was swiping the vacuum cleaner over the floor; and Sugar and Mercedes were setting up some fold out camping chairs. They all jumped and looked up when Finn honked the horn.

As they piled out, the others migrated out of the house to greet them. Puck moved through the boys, bumping fists with each of one of them before leveling a grin at Brittany, who was beside Santana helping her get the bags from the car.

"Guess who's here," he said in a teasing voice. Santana looked up as Puck stepped back to allow Artie to wheel into view, grinning sheepishly at Brittany.

"Hi," he said, giving her an awkward wave of his hand.

Santana was satisfied to note that Brittany didn't drop any of the bags she was holding to greet him, but she did go pink.

"Hi Artie!" She exclaimed, smiling at him.

"Here, I can…" He gestured at the bags in Brittany's hands and then at his lap.

"Oh, no, no," she said, "I've got it. But, come with me to the kitchen."

Santana watched Artie's face light up as he nodded zealously, spinning himself around as she walked past him.

Santana's chest felt bound again. And suddenly hauling the groceries she and Brittany had had so much fun buying was the absolute last thing in the world she felt like doing. She unfurled her fingers so that the plastic handles slid off of them and the bags clattered to the concrete.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "sorry." But as soon as Sam and Finn bent to pick them up, Santana turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>With all the boys there to help, the party space was set up by early afternoon. By then, Santana was thoroughly sick of hearing the others cooing at how cute Brittany and Artie were. They were joined at the hip, and everywhere Brittany wanted to go, Artie wheeled her there on his wheelchair.<p>

One space that remained Artie and Brittany free was the basement- the steep stairs not allowing wheelchair access. It also had remained deserted since Puck and Finn had hauled all the alcohol up into the old fridge that had been unearthed at the back of Lauren's garage.

As soon as everyone became distracted by an argument over what songs should be included on the party iTunes playlist, Santana snuck away down the basement stairs. It was dim and cool and blissfully quiet. Santana picked her way across the mattresses and sank onto the couch, turning her face into the cushions and taking a deep, calming breath. She fought the urge to check her phone for the second time in the past few minutes. There had been no word from Liv and yet the possibility of her showing up still hovered over Santana's head- as quiet and menacing as a storm.

And then there was Santana's promise to Puck- which she knew by the loaded smiles she caught him giving her throughout the day, he hadn't forgotten. It made her feel sick with nerves, and she pressed her face harder into the cushions, wishing she could slip between them. Every now and then the thud of footsteps sounded above her and each time they came Santana tensed, listening wearily to see if they would near the basement. Luckily, they never did. Santana began to feel drowsy- spurred on by the several wine coolers she'd accepted from Puck over the afternoon. Her thoughts wafted away from her and blissfully, she sunk into semi-consciousness.

Santana had been asleep for what seemed like all of two seconds when she was woken by a sharp prodding in her ribs. Breath scattered across her face- heavy with the smell of vodka and cranberry- and there was a sharp, shrill giggle.

"She's waking up," Sugar whispered loudly.

"Is she?" There was another prod in her ribs and the sound of Rachel's laughter- scattered erratically.

Santana sighed and sat up, swiping her hair off of her face and blinking at them. They were leaning on one another, their grins wide and loose. Above their heads the bass of the music was pounding in a steady rhythm, and muffled shouts and laughter sounded too.

"You. You, you, you," Rachel wiggled a finger in Santana's face, swaying heavily against Sugar. "You are missing the party! Everyone has dance and, and…wine," Rachel burped and gestured wildly at herself. "I've had wine."

"I can see that," Santana said, wrinkling her nose.

"Come onnnn," Sugar tugged at her. "Puck's making drinks and he's lined up like four for you."

"Drinks!" Rachel called, pumping her fist in the air. "Let's go!"

By the time they reached the garage, Santana was practically holding them both up, but as soon as they rounded the corner into the room they took off, laughing and shouting at the others. Santana surveyed the room, gauging the state everyone else was in.

Tina and Mercedes were drunk along the same vein as Sugar and Rachel- laughing and swaying and spilling their drinks on the garage floor. Lauren, Emma and Amy were crowded in the middle of the floor, dancing with Mike, Kurt and Sam. Quinn was sitting on top of one of the benches, directing Puck and Finn in their attempts at mixing drinks. And over in the far corner, Artie had his wheelchair parked in front of Lauren's lap top, scrolling through the music. Brittany was standing behind him, leaning over his shoulder and pointing to a song.

She had her back to Santana, and was wearing a short, light blue dress that rose up the back of her thighs as she bent further over Artie. Santana let her eyes linger, feeling her pulse rise as she took in the shape of Brittany' butt through the material of the dress.

"Santana!" Kurt's high pitched squeal pierced over the music, and Santana jumped her eyes away from Brittany- just in time it seemed, because Brittany had heard Kurt's yell and turned around too. Their eyes met. And there was that smile. That smile that made Santana's heartbeat rise up into her throat.

Kurt's face appeared in front of her, and he took Santana by the hands, whirling her into a vigorous, stumbling waltz. It took a moment to extract herself, but when she did she was dizzy. It felt like the spinning had made the wine she'd drunk earlier in the evening bubble back up to her head. She stumbled to the bench and leaned upon it. Further down, Puck looked up from his mixing and caught sight of her.

"Hey, babe, wanna drink?"

Santana shook her head, feeling nausea rising in her throat. She looked up and caught Quinn, further down the bench, looking between her and Puck. Santana suddenly felt reckless.

"_What?" _She called over to Quinn, notching her chin.

Quinn jerked her head back, looking affronted. "What? Nothing."

"Really? Because you have your mega-bitch face on. Or, wait, is that just your default setting?" Santana's voice climbed.

Finn looked up from his drink. "Common guys," he held up his hands. "Let's just all get along alright? This should be a good night."

"I'm not the one…" Quinn started, but Santana scoffed loudly enough to make her stop speaking.

"Whatever," Santana said, picking up the drink Puck had sat near her and turning around and heading out of the garage. Once she was outside in the drive way, Santana walked aimlessly down the side of the garage into the five foot gap between the garage and the boundary wall. She walked until she was completely in shadow and then leaned heavily against the side of the garage, enjoying its coolness on the back of her scalp. She wanted nothing more than to be back on the couch, not feeling or seeing anything.

Back down the path towards the garage the sound of laughter suddenly came into focus. Santana watched two long shadows stretched across the slither of concrete visible from where she was leaning. There was the slap of rushing footsteps and Brittany came into view around the corner of the garage, propping Sugar up. They stopped not too far down and Sugar doubled over. Brittany rubbed her back and murmured soothing words. After a few moments of retching, Sugar straightened up, patted Brittany vaguely on the shoulder and said, "it's all okay now. Yep. Let's dance!"

She yanked Brittany back around the corner, whooping and giggling shrilly.

Santana looked at the space Brittany had been standing for a long time. And then she tipped her head back and lifted the drink to her mouth, taking an overly large sip. It was gin and tonic with extra gin. It was too strong. Santana gasped, and lowered the drink, her eyes brimming with tears. She leaned down and put the cup on the grass beside her feet.

As she rose back upright, she heard another clatter of footsteps on the concrete outside the garage. Round two for Sugar, Santana guessed. But when the shadow rounded the side of the garage Santana saw it was Brittany.

She watched her pick her way gingerly across the grass, not saying anything as she approached. Santana didn't say anything either. She suspected that maybe she couldn't even if she wanted to.

Brittany arrived in front of her and ducked her head down to Santana's in concern.

"You okay out here? I saw you when I was helping Sugar."

Santana nodded. "I'm okay, just not… Just not feeling well."

"Oh," Brittany pulled a face. "Like Sugar?"

"Yeah," Santana laughed. "But not the vomiting part."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause, in which the music cut abruptly to a different song. Santana recognized the opening bars- the furious notes of an electric guitar and the leap of a drumbeat

"I love this song," Brittany said, tilting her head to the side to listen. As the intro progressed she started nodding her head.

"_Am I more than you bargained for yet? Been dying to tell you anything you wanna hear, coz that's just who I am this week. Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum. I'm just a notch in your bed post, but you're just a line in a song." _

Brittany stopped singing and pressed her lips together in a smile.

"I remember the words, too," she said softly. She lifted her eyes to Santana and their gazes caught and held.

It was easy looking at Brittany- far easier than Santana imagined it would be. They didn't break eye contact- not even when they heard the sound of Sam whooping and screaming a few of the lyrics and they both began to laugh.

Santana was becoming achingly conscious of how close up to her Brittany was standing. They were almost toe to toe and Santana could feel Brittany's body heat. It reminded her of that night in the TV room. The memory brought back the beat between Santana's legs.

And if the feeling of it had scared her at Mercedes's place, it was nothing on how Santana felt now. She was scared to move, scared, even to breathe. But in one warping moment, she felt herself reach forwards and take Brittany's hands in her own.

The contact made Santana's heart leap- as though her body had surprised her brain by moving of its own accord.

Brittany gripped Santana's hands and stepped a little closer. They hadn't looked away from one another's faces the whole time, but now Santana grew shy and dropped her eyes to Brittany's shoes in-between her own.

"It's okay," Brittany said in version of her voice that Santana had never heard before. It was lower. Urgent. It made the beating between Santana's legs worsen.

She didn't look up. But slowly, Santana pulled Brittany's hands towards her, directing them around her sides and behind her. When Santana let them go they settled against her lower back and stayed there. Santana reached her own hands back around and placed them not quite on Brittany's shoulders, not quite on Brittany's neck- but on the slopes in between. Near her right thumb, Santana could feel Brittany's pulse jumping. It was quick. As quick as her own, Santana thought.

Brittany leant forwards then, just a little. And Santana looked down and noticed she was almost on the tips of her toes. Santana's stomach dropped and she drew her eyes up quickly to look at her own hands, pressed in the curves of Brittany's neck. She looked at the difference in their skin tones. She looked at how all the hairs on her forearms were standing on end. She looked at the faint trace of veins on Brittany's neck. Then, slowly, and very carefully, she moved her thumb across until it was pressing against the skin above Brittany's pulse, just under her jaw bone.

She looked back up at Brittany then and her eyes were like floodlights on Santana's face. Brittany looked like she was searching for something, darting her eyes around Santana's features. Santana so badly wanted to give her what she was looking for, but she didn't know what it was exactly, so she jerked her fingers softly against that slope of Brittany's skin. That, it turned out, seemed to be enough.

It was surprising how warm Brittany's mouth was. Santana hadn't expected it. Their mouths met and opened against one another instantly, because there was no way Santana could have kept hers closed against that heat. They both took sharp, startled breaths through their noses but neither pulled away. Instead, and this surprised Santana too, Brittany lurched their bodies together with a sharp tug of her hands on Santana's lower back. The force made Santana's body hit the side of the garage, and it gave a hollow twanging sound.

They both ignored it and Santana shifted her hands, curving them up the back of Brittany's head and into her hair. Brittany groaned against Santana's mouth and darted her tongue forwards, curling it against Santana's own. Dimly, through the blood rushing through her ears, Santana registered the taste of alcohol as well as berries. Lip gloss, maybe.

And all of a sudden, the thought that someone she was kissing could be wearing lip gloss had Santana struggling out of the kiss. It took a moment, but once Brittany realized Santana was fighting it, she dropped her arms and stepped away, looking blearily at Santana. Her hair was mussed up, her lips were swollen and she was panting.

Santana stepped away too, forgot the garage was behind her, and clanged into it again. The sound ricocheted in the space around them and made Brittany flinch.

Santana raised a hand to her mouth and gingerly touched her lips, still feeling the press of Brittany's kiss. Everything inside her felt like it was hurling a hundred miles an hour and the several shaky breaths she took did nothing to help.

Brittany's face was pained and anxious. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I…"

Whoever had compared the human body to a machine had Santana's support completely, because her own surged her relentlessly forwards. She cleared the newly created distance between her and Brittany in one step, reaching for Brittany's face. When their lips met for the second time, Santana closed her eyes and let it pull her under like quick sand.


	8. Keep It All A Lie

**Hello :) **

**Thanks to my beta- **T97Carolina. ****

****Questions or anything can be asked on my Tumblr: lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com****

**Ch 7: Keep It All A Lie**

Santana awoke to a strip of sunlight blazing its way through a gap in the curtain. The insides of her eyelids were lit bright red by it and her mouth tasted stale. Her body felt stifled under the weight of the blankets and she kicked at them, flipping them off one of her legs. The cool air rushed to her skin, and it was pleasant for a moment before she realized her whole other side was as hot as though she was lying next to a heater.

Santana tossed her head to the side and for a moment all she saw was a tangle of blonde hair. Hurriedly, she sat up on her elbow and stared.

Brittany was curled up in the fetal position, her hands tucked together under her head. She was right up against Santana's side, and if Santana had of turned to face her they would have been spooning.

Santana looked down at herself, registering a tank top and underwear. Something lifted off her in relief- cooled the prickling panic across her skin.

Santana eased herself out of bed, her legs stiff and sore. She noted the mess of clothes on the floor beside the bed, both her and Brittany's. Her head began to pound.

In the guest bathroom Santana ran the cold tap and cupped the water in her hands, bringing it up to splash against her face. She did it again and again, but it didn't take the overtired sting out of her eyes, or ease the pounding in her head.

When she looked up at herself in the mirror, it was only to attempt to gain control of her hair, but she stilled with her hands half lifted upwards. Then they were scrambling to pull the hair off the side of her neck, and she was leaning so hard against the bathroom counter that she knocked over the glass full of toothbrushes. Just down from her jaw was an angry red blotch of skin and several more peppered along her collarbone.

Santana froze, trying wildly to remember what had happened the night before. She remembered the kiss- she remembered clinging against Brittany, rolling their bodies together and kissing until she had no breath; until she was only half standing. She remembered jumping apart as Sugar and Mercedes stumbled around the corner, both of them doubling over to be sick.

After that, Santana's memory got hazy. She remembered dancing to the odd song and she remembered going to the drink bench and taking whatever was strongest. She remembered wanting to keep her and Brittany's kiss tucked away in the back of her mind. But Santana had no idea how she'd gotten covered with hickeys and that terrified her.; the thought that she could have kissed Brittany again and not remembered it, or that she'd had the chance to go further, but she had no recollection- no way to keep a hold of the memory or test its reality.

Santana knew she was screwed. The hickeys were noticeable, and even if she did cover up the ones on her collarbones, the one on her neck was a bright plum color, high above any sweater's ability to conceal it. And even if everyone else just brushed it off, attributing the damage to Puck, he would see it and know at once that something was going on.

Feeling a high, pressing nausea, Santana splashed herself once more with water, and notched the hair tie off of her wrist, attempting to twist her hair into a low ponytail slightly off to one side so that the hickey was covered. It worked better than she had expected.

When she slipped back into the dim room, coated thickly with sleepy air, Santana noticed her phone on the bedside cabinet. She picked it up and lit up the screen, but there were no messages. Still on the edge of paranoia, Santana scrolled into her message folder. There were no recent ones. Nothing at all from Liv.

On the bed beside her, Brittany gave a sleepy intake of breath and twisted against the blankets, turning on her back and bending her leg so that her knee and one of her thighs slipped out from underneath them. Santana stood staring at the pale skin, and the light twist of veins she could see travelling up it. The thought struck Santana that she could know what it felt like to touch them. That maybe, in the drunken heat of the night before, Santana's hands had run up them, had used them to anchor Brittany against her.

As quickly and as quietly as she could, Santana dipped down amongst her clothes and pulled on the sweater of Puck's she'd worn the morning before. Then, tugging her pony-tail further around the side of her neck, Santana eased the door of the guest bedroom open and snuck into the hallway, which was cool and bright with the morning.

As she headed toward the kitchen, Santana could hear the clinking of dishes and the sound of low voices. They were too indistinct for Santana to be able to tell them apart, so she had no clue whom she was going to walk in and see, and whether she'd be safe when she did. She made her way slowly down the hall, listening hard and by the time she'd arrived at the door way to the kitchen she had distinguished Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes voices.

Safe enough, Santana thought, and she stepped around the corner.

Mercedes and Kurt were perched on bar stools, with their backs to Santana, leaning on the breakfast counter and Rachel was around the other side, chopping up some fruit on a chopping board.

"It's not like they just give away the Prefect roles you know. I've heard it's a severely rigorous selection process. But then I guess…" She looked up, caught sight of Santana and stopped.

Seeing that Rachel's attention was attracted somewhere else, Kurt and Mercedes turned in their stools to look as well.

"Well, good morning!" Kurt said coyly, grinning. Santana nodded at him and headed for the pot of coffee and the mugs stacked near the edge of the counter.

"How are you feeling?" Mercedes asked.

"Alright," Santana said carefully, taking a sip of her coffee and looking around at them. None seemed like they obviously knew something, but Mercedes got this curious and smug smile on her face the longer she looked at Santana.

"What?" Santana said.

Mercedes leaned forwards and tugged aside Santana's pony-tail.

"Ah-ha!" She said, whirling around to Kurt.

"You know," he said dryly, swallowing the last bite of his toast and flicking the crumbs off of his fingers, "hiding it just makes it more obvious."

"Shut up," Santana snapped, tugging her pony-tail away from Mercedes and shifting to sit on a stool beside her. She cradled her coffee and dropped her eyes to the rim, waiting to see what they would surmise.

"Puck's a lucky boy I'm guessing," Kurt said.

Santana didn't dare look up, she just shrugged.

"Lucky isn't really the word I would use," Mercedes laughed. "He's been in the downstairs bathroom since like 7 this morning, hurling."

"That's true," Kurt conceded. "Plus he slept on the folded down boxes in the basement like he was homeless."

"Hey, yeah," Mercedes exclaimed, "why didn't he sleep with you Santana?"

"Yeah, Brittany was in your room when I checked on you," Kurt added.

Santana snapped her head up. "You checked on us?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, looking mildly harassed. "Of course I did. You were so drunk when Rachel and I put you to bed that we sent Brittany in to check on you; and then she didn't come back so I had to go and see what had happened."

Santana went cold. "Oh," she managed in a strangled voice.

"And you were both passed out in your underwear," Kurt laughed, "completely out to the world." Suddenly, he jerked his head up and cocked an eyebrow. Santana held her breath in anticipation, but then Kurt just laughed and said: "I'm surprised that Puck didn't wake up and _smell_ two hot drunk girls together in their underwear."

"Mmm, no," Rachel mumbled through a mouthful of cereal. When Kurt, Mercedes and Santana looked at her she was shaking her head and pointing her spoon at Kurt. "Remember he was otherwise engaged for a while there."

Santana became very aware of what exactly she had just heard. And she could have sworn that Mercedes stiffened in the stool beside her.

"Otherwise engaged...how…?" Santana asked slowly, trying to keep her cool.

Mercedes said: "Oh, well, he was really drunk," at the same time Rachel said, "he and Quinn had a fight."

"It wasn't a fight," Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel, but Santana rose her voice over him.

"A fight about what?" She asked, staring straight at Rachel.

"A...a…" Rachel's voice became less sure as she switched her eyes back and forth between Kurt and Mercedes. Santana looked at them too, and caught identical warning looks pointed at Rachel.

"What's going on?" Santana rose her voice warningly. "What did they fight about?"

"Just about how drunk Puck was," Kurt said airily.

"_Really_ drunk," Mercedes nodded, her eyes widening.

Santana felt the harsh prickle of suspicion all over her skin, and her outrage was making her words fume in her chest. "Don't try to lie. You're all so obvious. I'm surprised you don't have nose bleeds from the stress. What the _hell_ were they fighting about?"

"What was who fighting about?" A yawn-deepened voice came from over Santana's shoulder. Santana froze, her eyes looking just past Rachel at Lauren's fridge. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mercedes and Kurt swivel around on their stools.

"Well, hell-o," Kurt laughed.

"How'd you sleep?" Mercedes asked.

Brittany stepped around the counter into Santana's eyesight. Their gazes caught and it was like an electric jolt through Santana. Then Brittany plucked a stray cheerio that had fallen from the open box onto the counter and shifted her gaze away to Mercedes. She nodded brightly.

"It was fine. The bed was super comfy." Then her gaze came back to Santana. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

It was so casual, so lightly inquisitive that it almost, _almost_ stung. Santana blinked, opened her mouth, and then realized there was no point saying how she was feeling because she hadn't the faintest clue.

So she shrugged and dropped her eyes, like the coward she was, to the rim of her coffee.

* * *

><p>Brittany had made the guest bed very neatly and for some reason it made Santana feel worse. It was like Brittany had never been there at all. Santana bundled her bag and the mess of clothes on top and walked quickly to the guest bathroom.<p>

In the shower Santana let the water run hot over her back. It was soothing and calming on every place but her tired eyes, which felt like they scratched around inside their sockets each time she moved them.

And under the cover of the steam and fogged up glass, making her feel like she was a world away, Santana thought about Brittany. She thought about lying curled beside her for a whole night and not even realizing it. And what had made Brittany get into bed with her in the first place?

"Santana?" A voice called out, followed by a series of echoed thuds. Santana reached back and turned the shower off.

"Yeah?" She called out into the now drip scattered quiet.

"It's Puck, I just thought I'd say goodbye because I'm catching a ride with Finn, Kurt and Sam and they're leaving now."

Santana lifted up her head from the shower wall.

"Just a minute," she called.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself and wiping the steamed up mirror clear with one hand so that she could hide her hickey under the tangles of hair. With a jolt she saw the ones on her collar bone, unable to be hidden by the towel or her hair. Thinking hurriedly, she bent to the floor and collected Puck's sweater, shrugging it on over her towel. It stuck uncomfortably to her still wet shoulders.

When she opened the door she got a surprise to see Puck standing right up close to it, leaning on the door frame. He looked like hell- his eyes red rimmed and his skin pale and blotched.

"You want a…" She pointed over her shoulder at the bathroom but he shook his head, his eyes on his sweater she was wearing.

"No," he said faintly. And then he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his chest and resting his chin on the top of her wet hair. She stood in his embrace for a moment, caught off guard, and then she reached around and squeezed him lightly back.

"Can we meet up in town after school tomorrow?" She heard him murmur.

"Okay," she agreed.

They disengaged, and Puck tugged at the sleeve of his sweater that she had on.

"You keep that, alright?"

Santana thought there was no way she would take it off even if he wanted her too, but she nodded. He pressed a kiss to her lips - just one, brief flicker of warmth. Then slung his bag over his shoulder, dropped her hand, and walked out of the bedroom.

She stood in the doorway to the bathroom for a moment, listening to the idling engine and the voices coming from outside the window. She wasn't in any presentable state to go out and say goodbye, so she went back into the bathroom and turned the shower back on.

By the time Santana _was_ presentable, Finn, Kurt, Sam and Puck were long gone, and everyone else had woken up enough to begin the restoration of Lauren's house. Lauren intended on telling her parents she'd stayed home alone for the weekend to explain some of the discrepancies around the house- like the half empty pantry- but the fact that the garage had been completely tidied out was something the Lauren would never have done just out of the goodness of her heart.

That was why, when Santana reached the bottom of the basement stairs she came across Sugar, Mike, Tina, Rachel, Mercedes, Artie and Brittany all sitting in a circle, taping the boxes back together. The TV was on in the background too- some cop show that Santana didn't recognize.

Sugar was the first to notice her, and shuffled over, patting the newly created space of mattress between her and Brittany. Santana hesitated, but only for the split second it took her to realize that everyone had turned their eyes up to her, including Brittany.

"Don't think you're getting out of this job," Mercedes laughed, cutting her pile of boxes in half and shoving them across the circle in front of Santana's proposed seat.

Carefully, Santana walked around Artie's chair, past Brittany and folded her legs under her as she sank down onto her space of mattress.

"So you just do this…" Sugar showed her. "And then tape it here and…" She twisted her half standing box awkwardly around, pursing her lips against the strips of spare tape she had stuck to them. "Here…"

"Wait, you have to fold that flap under," Brittany said. She leant across Santana to indicate the loose bit of cardboard on Sugar's box. Santana was unprepared for the closeness, and her body reacted in a hard flinch.

Still leaning over her, Brittany looked up curiously as she felt Santana's body jump. There was a frown lingering above her eyebrows, but she didn't say anything; she just let go of Sugar's box and went back to her own.

Once all the boxes had been stacked back in the garage, everyone crowded into the kitchen, where Amy, Emma and Lauren had piled all the items that people had left lying loose around the house. Kurt had left his hairspray, which Rachel took to give back to him, and Emma and Amy had both almost forgotten their Cheerios jackets. Quinn had left her phone charger, but when Mercedes turned to give it back to her, they realized she wasn't there.

"I'll go look," Amy muttered, pushing off the counter and hurrying out of the kitchen. Santana watched her go, frowning, until she was interrupted by something being thrown at her. She caught it quickly and turned it over in her hands, confused. It was a blue dress, familiar, but not one that she recognized.

She looked up at Lauren, who shrugged, "found half under the bed of the guest bedroom."

Santana looked down again and felt her cheeks start to redden. "It's not…"

"Oh, my dress," Brittany exclaimed, casually leaning around Rachel and taking it out of Santana's hands.

"Oh, yeah," Lauren said dismissively, "you were wearing it last night I should have put two and two together.

While the conversation was drawn back to an unnamed pair of boy's underwear that Rachel was poking around the counter with a serving spoon, Santana excused herself. She walked aimlessly up the hall until she stopped in the threshold of the guest bedroom.

Santana had no real reason to be there, but she couldn't be in the kitchen with everyone, so she stepped inside and sank against the wall beside her bag. After a moment she pulled out her phone and checked the time. The bus to take them all back to Alexandra was due at 12:30, which gave them an hour and a half. Santana looked around the room, wondering what the hell she was going to do in the meantime that allowed her to avoid any interaction like the one that had just occurred in the kitchen.

Santana had just made up her mind to stay put indefinitely, when a car engine sounded in the drive way. Her stomach dropped and she got onto her hands and knees, crawling over to the window. She poked her head up over the ledge and looked out onto the front lawn, expecting to see Lauren's parents. There was a van parked in Lauren's driveway, and a man was getting out the driver's door. He was familiar, but he didn't look anything like Lauren's dad. And then, with a twang of relief, Santana saw Artie wheel his was across the driveway and hug the man. Mike came up behind them, carrying bags.

After a moment, all the girls crowded in front of the garage. Santana watched as Rachel engaged Artie's dad in a conversation Santana couldn't hear.

With Artie's dad distracted, Mike and Tina launched themselves at one another and started making out. Santana's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Clearly she'd missed more last night than she realized, because last she'd known Tina and Mike had only had a relationship that covered Asian food and Asian summer camps. Behind them, Santana watched Artie roll his chair down the driveway and beckon someone forwards.

Brittany's hop-skip step was unmistakable. She broke away from the rest of the girls and approached Artie. She bent down so she was level with him and leaned her elbows on the armrests of his chair. Santana reached up and gripped the windowsill, pulling herself higher to see more clearly. Artie's mouth was moving, and Brittany was shaking her head, laughing.

Santana clenched the sill harder, for extra balance and then inched her other hand to the window latch. She managed to flick it up and with a loud clang; the window was caught by the wind and snapped outwards. Santana caught sight of heads turning in her direction before she dropped flat on her stomach and pressed her face into the carpet.

"Fuck," she muttered. Her heart was beating erratically, and yet the need to know what Brittany and Artie were talking about hadn't eased. Holding her breath Santana inched herself back up off the floor. She had just gotten level with the ledge when a voice sounded behind her.

"What are you doing?"

Santana twisted around on the carpet. Quinn was leaning up against the door frame, looking washed out and exhausted. But her expression was half amused, half knowing.

"Nothing," Santana muttered, trying to push herself up off the carpet without rising too near the window and giving herself away to everyone outside.

Quinn rose an eyebrow.

"I was just looking under the bed," Santana mumbled. Then, because she had nothing else to do, she walked to her bag and slung it over her shoulder. From up closer, Quinn looked even worse. It was true that people's skin could look so clammy it took on a slightly green hue. Santana wrinkled her nose and jerked her head away.

"You do not look in any fit state for a two hour bus ride."

Quinn blinked her eyes closed and waved a hand.

"Don't remind me."

"Well…" Santana gestured awkwardly to the door. "I'm going to ah, take my bag out and say goodbye…"

Quinn didn't step away from the door; she just rose up on her tiptoes and peered out the window.

"Looks like you're too late," Quinn said, nodding towards it.

Santana turned around. Sure enough, Mike and Artie's dad were in the front of the van, and Artie was in his special seat in the back. While his Dad ignited the engine, Santana watched Artie roll down his window and wave at everyone crowded in front of the garage. Then he beckoned again and, Brittany stepped up to the open window. She was tall enough to lean in, and, because he extended his face out towards her, she was tall enough to kiss his cheek. As Artie's dad began to ease the van backwards she stepped back and waved enthusiastically.

Santana turned away, trying to keep her face hollowed and masklike and looked back to Quinn. Her expression was hollow too, but in a different kind of way.

"Are you oka…" The words died on Santana's lips as Quinn shunted past her, hurrying for the bathroom with a hand clamped over her mouth. She swung the bathroom door halfway shut but it wasn't enough to drown out the sounds of her being sick. Santana took a hesitant step towards the door.

"Quinn… are you okay?"

"Go away," Quinn rasped after a moment. Then, the noise of her being sick came again.

Santana wanted to do what Quinn said, she really did. The last thing she wanted to do was help Quinn, but she knew she couldn't just leave her. She'd never seen Quinn look that unwell after a party. Not even under Liv's influence.

Down the hallway, an explosion of voices and footsteps meant that the others had come back in from seeing Artie and Mike off. Their voices grew louder and then more muffled as they approached what Santana guessed was the kitchen. Only one set of footsteps remained, coming closer down the hall.

Santana stepped away from the door, hoping it wasn't anyone coming to confront her about looking out of the window. At the exact moment the footsteps reached the guest bedroom, Quinn launched into round two of vomiting. Santana cringed as the noise of it carried. And then she heard the footsteps falter, stop, and then start up again, a split second before Rachel poked her head in the doorway, frowning suspiciously at the bathroom. She made to take a step inside the room, but jumped in surprise when she turned and saw Santana standing so close to the doorway.

"Santana, goodness," she pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. "Who's…?" She pointed to the bathroom, flinching as more vomiting noises sounded.

"Quinn," Santana muttered. Rachel's face dropped in concern. "You know, she didn't even drink all that much from what I can remember."

Then horror passed over her face. "You don't think there was any of Lauren's disgusting chicken left over that she could have eaten? I thought I got rid of it all…Quinn!" She raised her voice in alarm, stepping towards the bathroom.

Santana took her opportunity, slipping out of the hall with her bag and hurrying down it towards the kitchen.

The bus ride home was uneventful. Santana wound up sitting next to Sugar, which didn't faze her in the slightest because after about five minutes into the trip Sugar fell asleep, leaving Santana free reign over her iPod and the bag of candy Sugar had brought. Quinn was seated in the aisle across from them, with Rachel, who had been glued to her side ever since Santana had left her with Quinn in the guest bedroom. Rachel had brought a bucket and a packet of handy towels from the store near the bus stop, but so far Quinn seemed to be holding it down. Or at least she was being subtle about it because Santana hadn't noticed anything.

Then again, Santana hadn't really turned her gaze from the scenery outside the window. She was watching the power lines waver up and down and up and down with each new set of poles that they passed.

Santana's thoughts seemed to revolve around and around. She dwelled on the building sense of unease about her and Puck and, by kissing Brittany, she'd made herself feel so much more bound to him. He was now the buffer between her and the thing inside of her that seemed intent on ruining her.

And then, of course, there was Brittany, sitting three rows behind her beside Emma. Santana wondered if they were talking about her and Artie. Maybe Emma was asking Brittany if they'd hooked up, if he was a good kisser. And what would Brittany say back? Would she talk about how she'd pressed Santana so hard up against the garage that the tin flexed inwards? Or about how she'd ghosted her tongue, heavy and hot around Santana's mouth, and then grinned against their kiss when Santana moaned.

Santana shivered in her seat. She wanted so badly to ask Brittany what had happened from the time they'd stumbled back around into the garage to when Santana had woken up in bed beside her with hickeys everywhere. But the thought of taking the night out of the drunken void it had all fallen into seemed far too scary and sounded far too like the sort of "what does this mean" discussion which Santana would rather gouge her eyeballs out than sit through.

As Santana lined up beside a still half comatose Sugar to get their bags from under the bus, she wondered how you were supposed to notice the signs the world gave you. The ones that told you to act now, or to run as far and as fast as you can. How was she supposed to wade through everything she felt to get the answers?

* * *

><p>"<em>You know things get lost in those communal washing areas, so if you need me to send a rescue supply of socks…"<em>

"No, it's fine. I bought some the other day."

_"And you don't need anymore?"_

Santana rolled her eyes, and resisted the urge to put her phone down and let her mother converse with the top of her desk.

"No, Mom. I've got plenty of socks, and shockingly, underwear as well. I can actually dress myself, aren't you proud?"

_"Don't be like that Santana…"_

"Sorry. Hey I've gotta go, the bell for dinner just rang."

She hung up before her mother had a chance to advise her about portion sizing and threw her phone on her bed. She had lied about dinner- which had ended an hour ago- because she didn't want to talk. Santana suspected that inquiring about whether Santana had enough pairs of socks was her mother's way of saying that she missed her. The sentiment, however, didn't really go down well when Santana was sitting stiff backed at her desk, trying as hard as she could to block out the fact that she had kissed another girl- it had only made her feel oddly criminal and unclean.

With the absence of her mother's voice, the silence in Santana's room laid itself down heavily upon her. Her eyes fell upon the blue wall beside her head, and then travelled them over to the only two pictures she'd pinned up upon it. The Rastafarian one had pride of place, of course, because it was big and glossy. And the other picture, much smaller, was pinned right beside Santana's face. It was a photo, taken at her cousin's eighteenth birthday during the summer. It had been the first time she'd taken Puck to meet her family. At the time Santana had thought it funny that the appearance of a mo-hawk and ripped black jeans could be instantly abated by a toothy smile and several earnest attempts at greeting her abuela in Spanish.

Her uncle had offered to take the photo when he found them curled up in an arm chair in the corner of the sitting room, watching the party go on around them. Puck had been good-naturedly persevering with the party hat that they'd all been made to wear, and in the photo its tight string dug into the skin beneath his chin. Santana had given hers up, and it could be seen crushed on her lap. Ironically, like the party hat, she was crushed in _Puck's_ lap. His arms were encircling her, his palms resting on her knees and his chin tucked over her shoulder, aiming a wolfish grin at the camera. Santana was leaning her head into him, smiling too, her lips pressed together.

For some reason, the photo caught her attention and held it like she'd never seen it before in her life. But no matter how hard she stared at Puck's face, it never became less meaningful. She couldn't change him back to being a stranger. She couldn't turn him into just a face.

Santana could remember the exact day Puck had stop being _just a face_. She remembered it mostly because it had been the last day she had seen _Liv's_.

Puck had been friends with Liv before Santana- and Liv had never let her forget that after she found out that they had gotten together. But on the day Liv left, Santana hardly knew Puck- she only knew that he had saved his number in her phone at some party under: The Greatest Person You'll Ever Text. And he was the only person who she knew that would understand.

He had borrowed his cousin's car to come and pick Santana up from the parking lot at Alexandra. And she was crying before he had even leaned over to open the front passenger door for her. Once she was inside, he just held onto her while she cried. He didn't say anything because there was nothing to say. He just got it.

That afternoon he had driven her to get an ice cream and then up to a lookout over the city, its spring air making the evening bloom crisp around them. She hadn't even waited for either of them to finish their ice creams before she had leaned over and tugged him close with one hand, kissing him so roughly he almost pulled away. But then, _he got it_. And after that threw his ice cream out the window, did the same with hers, and brought her back to his lips - letting her be as rough as she needed so that she could forget.

Santana blinked herself away from the memory and looked away from the photograph, not sure if she would be able to keep her panic at bay if she looked any longer. She and Puck had been a blank slate on that lookout, with ice-cream stained hands and bitter first kisses. And now- now Santana could feel just how hollow they'd become.

Santana knew when Puck asked her to meet up in town that something was coming. She had an odd stirring in her stomach. She didn't know how to prepare herself, so she just turned on her side, lifted her pillow and pressed it hard against her exposed cheek, covering her whole head. It muffled the general noise of the boarding house, and brought to the forefront the thumping of her pulse. Santana squeezed her eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

><p>She was woken up by Miss Beiste shining her torch into her darkened room, and then her door rattling closed. Blearily, she felt the bed around her for the shape of her phone and pulled it up near her face, but tilting it sideways into the blanket as she turned on the screen. She squinted, letting her eyes adjust to the light and then peered at the screen. She stilled when she saw she had a new text message from Brittany.<p>

_Are you still awake? _

It had been sent and hour ago, and the time was now 11.30 p.m. Miss Beiste must have been on her first round of night checks. That meant, Santana calculated quickly, that there would be a two and a half hour gap until the next one.

Her palms were clammy as she turned her phone over in her hands. She knew what she was going to do, she had known the moment she'd seen Brittany's text. The fact that she was able to calculate the gap between the next night check was just another thing pushing her forwards. She got up out of bed, steadied herself against her wardrobe and waited a moment while her limbs became alert. Then she crept as quietly as she could to her door and edged it open- allowing herself the tiniest space possible to get out into the hall.

When she arrived at Brittany's door, she was struck by concern. Knocking would be too loud, and would draw attention, but just opening the door and sneaking in could frighten Brittany if she was asleep. And what if the door was locked? That possibility had Santana reaching for the door handle before she could stop herself. She tugged on it and it clacked open a tad. She was relieved but frozen by the noise, and by the fact that she was now letting the dim hallway light into Brittany's room. Santana squeezed her eyes shut, held her breath, and tugged the door open further. She froze again as it clacked louder, her heart going crazy in her chest. And then she heard Brittany, her voice croaked by sleep, whisper, "Hello?"

Santana hastily stepped up into the gap, looking into the dark room and the dim shape of Brittany sitting up in bed.

"It's Santana," she whispered.

"San?" Brittany was blinking into the light.

"Can I come in?"

She could make out Brittany nodding and she squeezed in through the gap she'd made, closing the door behind her. She paused with her hand on the lock, about to twist it purely out of habit. But then she realized this wasn't her room and that a locked door could say far too many things.

Instead, Santana drew a shaky breath and turned around.

Brittany had pulled back her curtain slightly, letting the security lamp outside tinge the dimness yellow. She could see Brittany's face, her features still sluggish with sleep, but her eyes were on Santana's.

"Can I…" Santana gestured to the end of Brittany's bed.

Brittany started. "Of course!" She said, a little too loudly. She and Santana both cringed at the noise. "Sorry," Brittany muttered.

Santana sunk down onto the mattress and immediately fixed her eyes on Brittany's wall. As the silence welled up between them, it became harder and harder to look away from that wall.

"San?" Brittany repeated. With effort, Santana turned to look at her.

"Sorry if I woke you up," she apologized, looking now at the end of Brittany's pony-tail, which was draped over one of her shoulders, like Santana's was.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, and bumbled out of her mouth like she was seven years old.

"Did you...do was it…" Santana stopped, drew a breath, and then tried again. "Do you have one as well? Did I...last night...did I give you one too?" She picked up the end of her own pony-tail and moved it across, tilting her head so that her hickey was exposed to the light.

Brittany's frown of confusion was one of the most frightening things Santana had ever seen. It made her stomach plunge.

"I didn't give you that," she said in a small voice.

"But...but...the bed…we slept…" Santana was spluttering, her cheeks burning like she'd been slapped.

"We slept." Brittany nodded. And then, she ducked her head, in, was that embarrassment?

"We just slept…?" Santana repeated dumbly.

"Yeah."

"Then who…" Santana pressed her palm against her neck.

"Puck. Puck did," Brittany said, her eyes darting all over Santana's face.

"Oh." Santana's voice faint from the collision of relief and disappointment. "I don't remember any of that."

"You don't remember _anything_?" Brittany asked. Her voice was measured in a way that Santana had never heard before. It reminded her of Quinn's.

"I remember…I remember what happened around the side of the garage," Santana admitted.

Brittany's eyes fell away from Santana's face as she nodded, darting them back and forth across the ground beside the bed like she was considering Santana's answer. Testing it for cracks.

"Are you going to tell Puck?" She asked.

That was the last thing Santana had expected.

"No-no why would I?"

Brittany looked up sharply, and Santana realized her tone may have been harsh.

"Well, because, it's cheating," Brittany stuttered. "It- it was cheating what we did."

That gave Santana pause. That thought hadn't even crossed her mind because it hadn't seemed like cheating. Kissing Brittany hadn't made Santana feel like she was deceiving anyone. It had felt as natural as taking a breath.

"I'm not...no. He doesn't need to know," Santana said finally, shaking her head. "Have you told anyone?"

Brittany shook her head no, and then pursed her lips, huddling a soft toy that Santana had just noticed her holding, closer against her chest.

That made Santana ache and she had to use all her will power not to go to Brittany. Not to take her face in her hands and steal another breath from the taste of her tongue. A shiver dragged itself up Santana's back.

"Do we… do we have to talk about what happened?"

There was a pause before Brittany answered, and Santana knew she was treading carefully.

"Some things are enough without talking about them. We don't have to if you can't find anything to say."

Santana blinked at her. She could feel the tide rising against her again. The last time it had struck, it had swept her straight into Brittany, and dragged her under the hot press of Brittany's lips. Santana didn't know if she could fight it and she already felt her upper body being drawn forwards.

At the other end of the bed, Brittany was looking at her with an odd kind of light in her eyes. Was she leaning forwards too?

Apparently, she had been. A guttural noise from the side of Brittany's mattress made them both jump and Brittany sat sharply upright. She'd been bent quite far forwards, Santana noticed.

Brittany stuck her hand down the side of her mattress and brought back a fistful of light.

Her phone, Santana realized.

"Sorry," Brittany said, dropping it amongst the covers and looking up at Santana.

"You can answer it," Santana said.

Brittany shook her head. "It's okay. It'll just be Artie saying good night."

"Oh," was all Santana could manage as Brittany's words thudded into her chest. And then an inexplicable anger lashed inside her and she was up off of the bed, dimly registering the look of shock on Brittany's face.

"It was cheating for you, too, wasn't it?" She fought to keep her voice level and even, but it shook under the weight of her anger and the tears blooming in her throat.

Brittany didn't say anything, but Santana didn't need her too.

She realized that Brittany had been right. Some things were enough not to require any words. Santana turned and rattled the door roughly open, no longer caring how much noise she made.

* * *

><p>Puck was waiting for Santana leaning against the wall beside the main entrance to the mall. He looked disheveled in his uniform- his collar shirt un-tucked and his tie loosened sideways. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he was moving the toe of his shoe against the concrete as though he was writing something.<p>

When she stopped at the lights across the road, he looked up as though he had sensed her. Their eyes met and she tried to smile, but she guessed he was too far away to see it because he didn't smile back, but lifted his hand as if to catch her attention.

When the light went green and she was half way across the road he pushed off the wall and walked to meet her.

"Back this way," he said, pointing from the direction she'd just come from.

"Why?"

"My cousin left the keys to his apartment under his doormat for us. I thought it would be nice for us to have a place to chill."

"Oh," Santana said. She felt her stomach begin to churn with nerves as she realized what he was hinting at. She'd been stealing herself for something else entirely, something that would explain the gulf widening between them, full of things unsaid.

"How was your day?" Puck called back over his shoulder as they hit the pavement. Santana lengthened her step to come up level with him.

"Alright," she said, shrugging. "Yours?"

"Long," Puck said. And then, as an afterthought, "and lame."

Santana nodded, thinking that he'd managed to sum up her day better with his words. They continued on in silence after that.

Puck's cousin's apartment wasn't far off from the mall, tucked into the far end of the 5th floor of a high, grey building.

"It's just like an adult version of the boarding house," Santana said, looking around the corridor- cramped by doors.

Puck laughed. "Yeah. Guess not much changes when you get into the real world."

"I hope that's not true," Santana said.

The apartment smelt like stale air and Salt and Vinegar Pringles, but it was tidy. Puck kicked off his school shoes and sat on the couch, leaving space enough for her to sit. She did and then looked at him.

"Do you wanna watch a movie…" She ventured, feeling nerves jumping in her stomach. She wanted to at least have some sort of precursor before…

"There won't be enough time," Puck said, sucking in his lips and twisting them sideways.

Santana looked at him, and waited. She waited for his signature half-smile and his sideways shuffle closer to her. The weight of his arm around her shoulders. But none of that came.

After the pause had stretched tenuously between them, becoming almost strained, Santana became desperate. She reached out and put her hand on his leg.

"We're alone," she said, trying to make her voice low and sultry. "And I think," she edged her hand higher up his leg, "I have a promise to keep from the weekend."

Puck opened his mouth, took a shuddering breath, and laughed lightly.

"Babe, you don't have to keep those kinds of promises. It was just a joke."

Santana snapped her eyes up to him.

"A _joke,_" she said, incredulous.

"Yeah, it's not…" He shook his head, "it's not important now."

Slowly, Santana removed her hand from his leg, feeling sick. He'd never rejected her before.

"What's wrong with you?" she heard herself ask, though she wasn't even sure she wanted the answer.

Puck took a breath and looked into his lap.

"I guess I just don't know how I feel about us anymore."

Santana felt the world blanch.

"What?" she snapped, staring at him.

Under her gaze, Puck shifted uncomfortably and shoved a hand through his hair. "It's… Jesus, San, it's really fucking complicated."

The nickname was what did it. And suddenly Brittany was all around, bringing feelings with her that were suffocating and violent.

Santana shot up off the couch and stood over Puck. The words he was trying to stutter fell away as he looked up at her.

"Get up," she commanded.

"What?" He frowned.

"Get the fuck up," she repeated, louder.

After a pause, Puck got to his feet, eyeing her, weary.

"Santana…"

"No," she said over him. Then she put her hands against his shoulders. "You can't do this to me."

Something changed then- in the way he looked at her. Santana recognized pity.

"No," she said, more loudly, shaking his shoulders and her head at the same time. Then she jerked him hard up against her and tugged his head down.

Their kiss was rough- like their very first one had been. Santana stepped forwards harder against him, trying to push him backwards onto the couch. But he stayed unmoving, his lips suddenly hesitant beneath hers.

In frustration, Santana stepped back, wiped the back of her hand across her lips and then made to push him, hard. She could feel the tears rising in her throat- hot and urgent. Puck caught her hands in mid-air and held them still.

She struggled against his grip and succeeded in ripping away. She was shaking with rage, her breath coming short and shallow.

"Fuck you," she spat. Puck's face dropped and desperately, he stepped forward again.

"Babe," he soothed, "please."

"No," she shook her head and then the tears over took her voice.

He stepped up to her, closer, and this time she didn't back away. She dropped her eyes to the floor and screwed them up, knowing she was fighting for something she didn't even want.

"I'm scared." She said. It was all the truth she could manage.

She watched Puck's feet step closer and then his arms bound her hard against him. Her tears were a hot balloon swelling in her chest. She looked up at him, trying hard not to let the sobs jerk out of her.

When Puck kissed her it was gentle- gentler than she'd ever been kissed. Gradually, Puck deepened it, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue.

Santana stepped forwards, trying again to press him back toward the couch, but after a moment she realized he was pulling her back with him.

Like the very first time she'd kissed him, Santana did it to forget. Santana squeezed her eyes hard and tried her very best.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm putting this note here after getting a buttload of messages on Tumblr complaining about Pucktana. NOTE: This is a Brittana story. Not Pucktana. Please bare with me, I promise it'll be worth it. <strong>


	9. A Moment On The Air

**Hello, update! :) **

**Thank you to my wonderful beta- ****T97Carolina.******

**Ch 8: A Moment On The Air**

Because Miss Pillsbury had taken the day off sick, Miss Cowley had to step in as prep supervisor for the evening- A task which she had taken to mean prowling the corridor up and down continuously instead of just sitting at one end and reading like a sane person.

It was for this reason that Santana had her head ducked under her blankets and her mouth pressed hard up to the speaker of her phone.

Liv was laughing into her ear.

_"There's no point in talking if you're just going to flap your blankets around,"_ she pointed out.

"I'm not." Santana's head was off the pillow and she tried very carefully to reach up and pull it down without bumping the phone.

_"See, what was that then?" _

"Sorry." Santana dropped her arm over her eyes instead- even though it was dark enough under her blankets, she liked the pressure on her face.

_"So, what's the deal?" _

"Deal with what?" Santana whispered into the speaker.

"_I can hear the sadness in your voice." _

Santana frowned against her arm, feeling her face grow hot. "What?" She blurted.

That made Liv laugh again.

"_I'm joking. Puck called me." _

"Oh, okay." Santana felt suddenly like her chest was made of iron. It took some effort to fill her lungs with air. She felt betrayed, though she didn't know who by.

"_He told me that you guys broke up today."_

"Since when do you and he talk?" Santana asked, her surprise making her voice blunt and accusatory.

"_Since before you and he did," _Liv shot back; quick off the mark as always.

Santana huffed a sigh. She'd walked right into that one.

_"So what happened? You guys screwed, and then you freaked?" _Liv asked.

Santana flinched. "He didn't tell you?"

_"He only called to say that you'd probably need a friend." _

Santana snorted derisively. "I'm really not that cut up about it. It's not like there aren't a hundred more like him that I couldn't get. But, with better hair," she added as an afterthought.

Liv's laugh was cold and ringing in her ear.

"_Oh, alright, playing that card are you?" _

"What card?" Santana asked- her indignation growing at the taunting tone in Liv's voice.

_"So, what, you were desperate enough to sleep with him to try and stop him from breaking things off, but now you're trying to pass it off as all good? Like your biggest worry is that you don't have a date to the Formal anymore?  
><em>

Santana lifted her arm off of her face and blinked at the inside of her blanket in disbelief. She felt almost winded.

"So Puck told you more than you said he did," she said carefully.

_"He told me what happened. And I gave you a chance to explain your side of things but you just can never be straight up."_

"I don't know what you mean…"

_"Don't play dumb Santana_," Liv spoke over her. "_I know you. You didn't even like Puck when we met up with him at parties last year. We both know that you settled for him at the last minute. And we both know who you really wanted." _

Coldness trilled down Santana's body. She jerked the phone away from her face and jabbed her finger against the 'end button'. Then, suddenly claustrophobic, she wrenched the blankets off of her head and sat upright, her breathing coming hard and fast.

But being out of the blankets didn't calm her down- the walls of her room seemed to shrink in on her. There was no place to go. Santana wanted to just be able to scream and yell and let out everything that seemed to be binding her lungs half closed, but instead she was shut up in this tiny shoe box, barely able to breathe without someone hearing. She had no way of escaping and clearing her head.

Prep had obviously finished, because the corridor outside Santana's room began buzzing with noise. Santana tugged her knees up to her chest and leaned her forehead against them, wishing she could just fall asleep and block everything out. But she suspected she wouldn't be able to sleep even if she tried, because, by the sound of the shrieks that had begun right outside her door, Sugar and Tina had decided to play wrestle. They'd gotten into the habit of it the year before to let off steam after being cooped up in their rooms at prep. Last year's routine had culminated in Sugar hitting Tina across the back of the head with a hairbrush and Rachel threatening to call the police.

They'd restarted the tradition with what seemed like vigour- there were muffled yells and a series of hard, sharp thuds on Santana's door like someone had collided with it.

The year before, Tina and Sugar's escapades had highly amused Santana. Once or twice she'd even joined in- mostly to make Liv laugh. But now, the hollering and banging just edged at her nerves and she sat on her bed getting more and more angry. Until finally, a screeched "fffuckk!" tipped her over the edge. Santana shot up off her bed and wrenched her door open. There were more yelps as Sugar and Tina collapsed at Santana's feet, panting and laughing, their hair mussed everywhere and their faces bright red.

Santana scowled down at them.

"Can you please shut the fuck up or go somewhere else?"

Sugar and Tina jerked their heads up in surprise.

"There's like…" Santana gestured wildly, her anger running away from her, "the whole hallway in which you can be painfully annoying. So please stop trying to molest one another right outside _my _room."

"Jeez, Santana, chill out," Tina frowned, sitting up on her knees and swiping the hair off of her face.

"Someone got aboard the grumpy bus." Sugar was still lying flat on her back, pouting up at Santana.

Santana tossed her head in frustration and rolled her eyes. That was when she caught sight of Brittany, standing a little further down, leaning against the other side of the hall. Her hands were tucked behind her back and her eyes were on Santana. Her expression was almost pained.

They looked at one another. Just looked. And the second seemed the thread between them, tweaking something inside Santana. She had to steal herself to stop the shudder that crawled up her skin.

She dropped her eyes back down to look at Sugar.

"Move, so I can shut my door," she muttered.

Sugar obeyed, shooting Santana a sullen look as she did.

As soon as the door's path was clear Santana rattled it closed, clicking the lock securely in its place.

* * *

><p>In Santana's opinion, her lack of organization was actually very good for her education. If she had checked her schedule any earlier than she did- three minutes before her class was due to start- she probably would have made a plan to ditch it.<p>

P.E straight after lunch was never Santana's idea of a good time, but the fact that she was in the same class as Brittany framed it with some sort of anticipation that both had her wary and excited. She and Brittany hadn't talked since Santana had walked out of her room two days ago- slamming her door shut so hard that Rachel popped her head out of her room and shone her emergency flashlight down the hall- but she was hoping they could ease things back to normal.

That week Santana's P.E class was scheduled to meet in the gym. When she got there, she changed into her gear, joined her class outside the gym, and listened to Miss Hawkins explain that she was taking them on a run around the neighbourhood.

Santana glanced around to try and find Brittany, who she hadn't seen straight away. She passed her eyes twice carefully over the class, but Brittany wasn't there. Santana's thoughts darted several paces ahead of her- already composing reasons for why Brittany wasn't in class. She was sick- no, that couldn't have been it; Santana had seen her that morning at breakfast and then, a glimpse of her at the beginning of lunch when she, Quinn, Amy, and Emma had left the boarders sitting in paradise for Cheerios' practice. Could she have gotten sick during that time? Or was there another reason Brittany wasn't showing up? Something to do with Santana herself?

As the class began to gather around Miss Hawkins, listening to her further instructions, and Brittany still hadn't showed, Santana began to get anxious. Running was the last thing she felt like doing as well- especially with Miss Hawkins breathing down their necks.

"Alright girls, let's head out," Miss Hawkins said, clapping her hands and leading them in a brisk walk to the front gate. Santana came upright from her stretches but didn't move forward. She stood and watched all her classmates trail away from around her. When the last one of them rounded the corner past the gym, Santana turned on her heel and walked without regret, back into the changing rooms.

She dropped onto a bench and bent down to start untying the laces of her running shoes, deciding she was going to sneak into the library and act like a part of whichever class was in there.

She had one shoe off and no excuse what so ever for being alone in the changing room when she heard the squeak of shoes against the floor of the gym. She froze, staring hard at the floor between her feet. She mentally glossed over a few excuses to explain why she hadn't followed the class and had them all laid out on her tongue when the footsteps drew closer and the door of the changing rooms creaked open.

Santana looked up expecting Miss Hawkins but saw Brittany instead. She paused in the door, panting slightly, her cheeks bright red. She almost looked like she was tearing up. When she caught sight of Santana she blinked rapidly.

"I got lost," She blurted.

Santana opened her mouth, closed it, and then said, "Oh."

Brittany didn't seem to notice how caught off guard Santana was. She took two steps into the changing room and looked this way and that, as if she checked the corners thoroughly enough their class would appear. Then she turned back to Santana and said, "Where is everyone?"

Slightly recovered from her shock, Santana notched her voice down to normal level and began untying her other lace.

"You missed them; they went for a run."

"Oh."

Santana looked up and saw Brittany struggling to hold back tears.

"I've never missed a class before," she said in a thick voice, "should I get changed and try to catch up?"

Santana tugged off her other shoe and shrugged.

"Do what you want," she said, nonchalantly.

There was a pause.

"Why aren't you with them?"

Santana had excuses all lined up on her tongue, like she had when she'd expected Miss Hawkins to come in, but she couldn't bring herself to lie. She was too tired to lie.

"I was waiting around to see where you were."

The words shocked them both, Santana realized. As soon as she'd said them Santana's face grew hot and her chest constricted. Brittany blinked down at her rapidly, her lips pressed tightly together so that they went white. Then she took a step forward, hesitated, looked at Santana, then took several rapid steps over, and perched lightly beside her on the bench.

"Thank you."

Santana was looking at her feet when Brittany said it, but she heard her voice- soft and tremulous.

"It's okay."

"What should we do now? Should we go find them? I don't want to get in trouble."

Santana was going to say: "you won't", but the worry on Brittany's face stopped her. She realized she probably wouldn't be able to convince her anyway, so she said, "We can, if you want to. If we run fast enough we could catch up."

Brittany's face lit up and it reminded Santana of a Christmas tree- which made her snort. Brittany's face fell slightly.

"What?" She asked, but Santana shook her head and bent down to slip her shoes back on.

"You better get changed if we want to catch them. So get your ass into gear… P.E gear…" She laughed at herself and heard Brittany doing the same. It made Santana's stomach flutter.

Brittany got up off the bench, slung her bag up higher on her shoulder and began to walk away towards the toilets. Automatically, Santana glanced up to watch her go, but blinked rapidly away when she saw Brittany shooting her an over the shoulder grin.

They had made it half way down the road out of Alexandra's main gate when Santana suddenly pulled up short and doubled over, almost choking on laughter.

Brittany pulled up beside her and watched her, laughing in confusion as she puffed.

"What? What's so funny?"

Santana was unable to get the words out and just shook her head, holding up a hand. Brittany waited patiently beside her, and Santana could hear her catching the laughter too.

When she had recovered slightly, taking shuddering gulps, she looked up at Brittany.

"I just realized I have no fucking clue which way they ran!" The words brought about more laughter from both of them, and Brittany shook her head in disbelief.

"Well, what are we going to do now, then?"

Santana considered and then tilted her head and twisted her lips as an idea came to her mind.

"You still wanna run?"

Brittany noticed the challenge in her voice and tilted her head as well, her eyes exploring Santana's face as she considered.

"I can, if you want?"

"Well, we're still doing the lesson but just in a different place."

A smile spread across Brittany's features. "Sounds perfect," she nodded, "let's do it."

To Santana's surprise, Brittany managed the steep track up to Mt. St. John with ease. They kept having to stop however, because Brittany kept on rushing off the path through the trees to take in the view. She did it so often that eventually Santana just rolled her eyes and flopped down on the grass near the path- which had a clear view straight through the trees.

She patted the grass beside a still 'aahhing' Brittany who sat down, twisting this way and that to see different angles of the city.

"This place is so beautiful. I never realized you could get up here. I thought it was a farm."

"A farm?" Santana's eyebrow's shot up and she tried to keep her laughter from her voice.

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah, but...This is better than I imagined."

She was gesturing out to the view, but Santana stilled, thinking only about how the words could have applied to them sitting beside one another with only trees around them, the city muted below.

"How did you find it?" Brittany asked.

"Liv and I found it last year. We… it came in useful for doing stuff like this."

"Like...ditching class?"

Santana pressed her lips together and nodded, "pretty much."

They were silent for a moment, but it wasn't awkward. Santana felt as though they were sharing the silence- as though somehow their thoughts weren't distanced from one another. She could feel herself leaning towards Brittany. Not obviously- it could have been the way the ground sloped- but eventually they were close enough for Santana to be able to hear the soft puffs of Brittany's breathing.

Then Brittany said, "What happened with Liv?"

Her voice sounded strained, all upturned at the end like she had been practicing ways to say it in her head.

"I thought the others would have already told you."

"Not really," Brittany shrugged, "well they told me some of the stuff. Like how you, Quinn, and Liv were best friends. Mercedes told me that."

Santana nodded at the grass, but she wasn't agreeing. She opened her mouth and let herself say something she hadn't before.

"The more I think about it, the less sure I am about whether or not that's what you could call what the three of us had. I mean," she laughed shortly, "half the time we were playing games with one another's heads. Especially Quinn and I. It was like we were competing for Liv- which was ridiculous because there would have been nothing to compete for really. Liv made sure neither of us won."

"How do you mean?" Brittany had lifted her hand over her eyes to shade out the sun, and she was squinting at Santana.

"It's _so _hard to explain," Santana shook her head, staring at the grass between her feet for the words. "She would mess things up just when Quinn and I would make our peace and knew where we stood. Liv would always tell me one thing and tell Quinn another and it got to the point where we'd all be just hanging out and I would be sitting there having to physically stop myself from slapping Quinn just because I hated her so much for knowing something about Liv that I didn't, or for the two of them going somewhere without me. And I know Quinn felt the same way about me too."

"Is that why you guys aren't really friends now?"

Santana nodded, twirling her finger round in the grass and yanking a few hunks out- only to toss them aside. She was creating quite a pile. "I guess her and me never… I dunno…"

"You guys never knew how to stop competing? Even though there's nothing to compete for anymore?"

Santana nodded again, and looked up at Brittany to see her nodding too. It made Santana want to say more- every sentence came with its own rush of release. She'd never told anyone this.

Brittany pressed forward with another question, confident like Santana had never seen her.

"Why were you friends with her in the first place?"

"Well, I..," Santana laughed at herself in disbelief, "is it weird if I say I don't really know?"

Brittany brushed a hand at the tip of her nose and shook her head. "Lots of times there's no reason for why we like someone. We just do."

They looked at one another, and then Santana blinked back down at the grass. "Yeah. I guess if I had to give you a reason it would be the fact that Liv was so different from anyone I'd met. You know the type- the one who seemed older than they were. Who knew all this stuff that you weren't even old enough to _want _to know. It was like...like she'd…" Santana swung her eyes around, shrugging, "...like she'd never really been a kid. She knew all this stuff about boys and smoking and she always had stories about being stoned or being so drunk she couldn't remember anything the next day. And I mean, come on, I was 13. The most I'd ever drank was at a family dinner when my cousin and I stole two of my tio's beers. And it wasn't just…" Santana stopped and took a breath, realizing her words were running over one another, "it wasn't just that sort of stupid rebellious stuff that she knew about. She could talk for hours about music- and would know bands that I'd never heard of. She just seemed to know the whole world. And when she chose me...well, and Quinn, to share that with . . .it changed everything."

Santana stopped and drew another breath, turning to look apologetically at Brittany. "Sorry," she said, "I'll stop-"

"-No," Brittany shook her head. "Keep going, it's good."

Santana looked at her wondering what she meant by _good. _Good as in a good story? Or good that Santana was saying it all out loud? Or maybe, good that they were on this hill together, sitting so close that Santana could feel the warmth of Brittany's body. Hotter than the sunlight.

With her close like that, it wasn't hard for Santana to pick up her truths, dust them off, and bring them to lay out across Brittany's lap.

"Liv started making us do stuff. At first, it was just dumb- like staying out five minutes after we were supposed to be back to the boarding house, or sneaking into one another's rooms during prep. But then she started pushing us. Ten minutes late, then fifteen. And it became sort of an unspoken challenge between me and Quinn. Whoever spoke up and said: "oh, we should go back now," was considered a failure. And then Liv wouldn't talk to whichever one of us did and you'd be like...blacklisted for a day or two. I remember once, I refused to do something, I don't remember what, but all I can remember is sitting with everyone else at dinner and looking over at Quinn and Liv sitting alone and being so angry I burst into tears in front of everyone. It got out of hand like that. It was like whether I was feeling happy or not revolved completely around her."

Santana didn't want to look at Brittany's face after that, so she directed her eyes resolutely out across to the buildings that were so far away they looked like pale blots amongst the tree darkened landscape.

"And near the end of the year it got a lot worse. Liv had these friends, older guys, three of them. But I can only remember that one of them was called Nic, with a 'c'. And he had this car- one of those small, red Volkswagen golf ones. And one day he and the other guy picked us up in it and Quinn, Liv and I had to all fit in the back seat beside one of them. Quinn and I ended up like squashed in the corner of the back seat. I was next to Liv and Quinn was by the window. And we were driving, and Liv and this guy in the back with us started making out. It took me a bit to notice because Quinn was freaking out by how fast Nic was driving."

Santana was still looking out at the view, but she was right there in the car. Quinn had pressed herself far against the door so that she could see the road up ahead. The music playing was so loud that Santana's hearing seemed to muffle and go dim. The bass was pounding into the back of her seat from the speakers in the trunk, throbbing against the inside of her head the way a nightmare can sometimes clutch at you even after you've woken up. Santana felt discomfort settle hard and pressing in the pit of her stomach and she looked to Liv, not even knowing how she was going to tell her that she was hating this.

Liv was gone from beside Santana. Well, not gone, just moved. Sitting on the guys lap, facing him. Kissing him, both hands clutched tightly to his face. Her body shunted back and forth as they turned corners, but he had his arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand was on his lap, under her skirt.

"Was he…." Brittany paused, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. After a while it became pretty obvious. And Nic and the guy in front started laughing and taking videos of them. And I remember reaching over and being like," Santana shook Brittany's shoulder to demonstrate, "what are you doing? Get the hell off of him. And Liv just looked at me and laughed. And then she looked at Quinn, who was swearing at her and telling Nic to pull the car over, and she laughed at her too. And then just carried on. I guess I'd say that was the turning point, for Quinn mostly. She got fed up but I was still… I dunno…"

Santana shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I was a lot stupider than Quinn. And after that Quinn started pulling away from us. We didn't compete as much for Liv's attention. She joined the Cheerios which pretty much crossed her off in Liv's books and I thought it was awesome because then it was just me and Liv. And it...It was great for a while. But then things got intense again. And Liv got this huge grudge against Quinn and started trying to fuck her life up. Like," Santana inclined her head, "_really _fuck her life up. At first it was rumours: Quinn's a lesbian, Quinn sleeps around and all that, but it got worse. Until one day I found us sitting in Liv's room with some pills she'd got off a guy, maybe the car guy, Nic, I dunno. And she was saying how she was going to sneak them in Quinn's bag and let it slip to the matrons."

Brittany's gaze blanched. "Are you serious? I didn't know that."

"Yeah," Santana nodded, "it's still sort of...well...it's still a touchy subject."

"Did you guys do it? I mean, did she put them in Quinn's bag?"

Santana made herself look at Brittany.

"I did."

Brittany's face faltered and she ducked her head closer. "You did?"

Santana nodded.

"I put it in her bag during one of our classes together. But Liv was the one who told the matrons. She said she'd seen Quinn getting it off some guys after school. And I remember…" Santana took a shaky breath. "I remember coming back through the office and seeing Quinn through the glass of Miss Cowley's office. And she was balling her eyes out and Cowley was shaking the bag of pills that I'd planted right her face. And people were walking past and staring in and Quinn looked up and saw me standing there. And I _knew _that she knew who'd set her up. I just knew it. And you know, it fucking sucks to say this but I'm going to…"

She took another breath and realized she was on the verge of tears.

"...I know that if Liv had been with me when I'd seen Quinn in that window I probably wouldn't have done what I did next. And just that- just knowing that is so screwed up."

"What did you do?" Brittany prompted gently.

"I went to Rachel. I was too much of a pussy to tell Cowley or Quinn myself, and I knew Rachel would. So I went to her and I told her what we'd done and I said that she should tell Cowley because I couldn't."

"Did you get in trouble?"

"No," Santana let out a humourless laugh, "I didn't. The irony of it all is that Rachel had actually seen Liv get the drugs. Me telling her what we'd done just confirmed what she'd already suspected. And so when I told her what had happened she went to Cowley and told her what she'd seen, leaving out my part in it. And Liv… Liv got kicked out. She thought it was Quinn's parents who'd paid the school off to put her at fault… and she told everyone that. She lied till she was blue in the face about it."

"Does Quinn know that you…"

Santana shook her head and Brittany stopped. "I know, by the way," Santana glanced at her quickly, "I owe Rachel a huge favour."

She turned her eyes back to the view as Brittany laughed.

"I didn't want to be the one to point that out...but you kinda do."

"Yep," Santana heaved a breath and heard the sound of Brittany moving on the grass, and then the heat was against her forearm. Santana looked down. Brittany was sitting flush up against her, with her legs stretched out in front of her like Santana's were. Like this Santana could see how much longer Brittany's legs were than her own. Brittany picked a daisy from the grass and had her palms pressed on either side of the stem, rolling them back and forth so that the head of the daisy pirouetted around and around.

"It'll get dizzy," Santana warned her.

Brittany stopped rolling her palms and glanced up, her expression suddenly anxious.

"You're right."

She clasped the stem of the daisy between her thumb and her index finger and brought it up, with her other hand she carefully brushed aside the bits of hair that had come out of Santana's ponytail and fallen down the side of her face while she'd been running, and notched the daisy above Santana's ear. It was the lightest thing in the world- yet it carried more weight than Santana had expected. When she looked across at Brittany she saw that she was still looking at the daisy, her hand paused by Santana's head holding a lock of her hair back.

"That's nice," Brittany said faintly.

Santana could feel her heart rate rising and heat forming on her cheeks. She sucked her breath in and held it like she was going under water. Then she turned her head to look Brittany full in the face. The movement had meant that Santana's hair had slipped out of Brittany's grasp, but she hadn't dropped her hand away. It hovered beside Santana's face.

"You suit flowers," Brittany said, her voice soft and fond.

Santana fought the urge to laugh. She tried her best, but her nerves made her control fragile and a snicker escaped.

"I'm serious!" Brittany pouted. And then she pressed her palm up against Santana's face and held it there.

The thing Santana was most conscious of was the fact that Brittany would be able to feel how hot her face was. But that didn't really matter once Brittany dropped her eyes to Santana's lips. Santana looked at Brittany's too, and it made drawing closer to her easier- she was less self-conscious.

Brittany kissed her lightly- just pressed her mouth to Santana's- as casual as a passing touch. Then she drew back a bit and cocked her lips in a half smile. Then she was bringing Santana's face closer again with her hand and Santana's eyes had just fluttered closed in expectation. Suddenly, the wind picked up and brought the sound of laughter, chattering and beating footsteps over to them.

Santana snapped her eyes open and ducked low.

"Crap! Crap, crap, crap!"

Brittany was still upright, craning her head around to see where the noise was coming from. Santana flinched in panic and tugged Brittany down to the grass with her.

"That's our class, fucking running around the dome. _Shit, _come on."

She took Brittany's hand and shuffled down the steepening slope of the side of the hill- away from the path. They skidded down until the ground was steep enough for them to lay flat against it and not be able to see back over the rise.

The sound of the class drew closer, and Brittany huddled nearer to Santana, her face drained of color.

"I've never ditched class before…" She whispered.

Santana almost laughed, but something told her it would make Brittany feel worse. So she reached out and looped and arm around her waist. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

They were quiet as the footsteps grew louder and became more intricate- till they could hear puffing and the individual scrunches of feet on gravel. Miss Hawkins called out every once in a while in her drawling tone, "Come on girls, feet up and moving."

After a moment, the noise receded and Brittany let out the breath she'd been holding in one loud gush. Then she rolled out from under Santana's arm and began scratching furiously at her own.

"This stuff itches," she whispered.

"Don't…" Santana took hold of Brittany's arm and brought it up over her face to examine it. Apart from the red scratches that Brittany's nails had left, her inner forearm was covered in red dots.

"Are you allergic to grass?" She asked, letting Brittany take her arm back.

Brittany frowned. "Is this what being allergic to grass looks like?" She started itching again.

"I don't even know," Santana admitted. They both began to laugh, ducking their heads down into the grass to stifle it.

They lay there until the sounds of the class had faded completely, then they crawled back up to the grass by the path where they'd been sitting.

The path was deserted and Santana picked her phone up from where she'd left it in the grass.

"We'd better get back so we're not late for next period."

"Yeah," Brittany said slowly, tugging her running shorts straight.

They headed off down the track, their sneakers scattering stones ahead of them. Instead of walking behind Santana- letting her lead like she had done on their way up- Brittany walked beside her. They were so close that their shoulders skittered past one another and their hands bumped once or twice. They were close enough that when Brittany skidded slightly on the gravel, Santana had a hold of her hand in less time than it took her heart to lurch. And because the path sloped downwards quite rapidly for the rest of the way, and the stones got even looser, Santana reasoned that it was okay that they held hands the whole way down.

* * *

><p>"Everyone! Okay… Everyone...please could you just...I need quiet so we can…If we don't figure this out our grade will be the laughing stock of the boarding house on the night of the Formal. People! Please!" Rachel was red faced and standing over them all in the fruit room with her hands on her hips. There was no way in hell that she was going to get anyone to listen, Santana thought, because they'd all just had prep and been cooped up alone for two and a half hours.<p>

Every year, a few months after the start of term, the Alexandra Boarding house hosted a formal in which the boarders were allowed to invite partners from other schools. The task of organizing the formal was divided between the grades- with each one getting a different responsibility. This year, the tenth grade had been given the job of coming up with a theme and organizing the decorations.

Rachel, being dorm leader and well, being _Rachel, _had taken it upon herself to lead their grade into action.

"Rachel, you need to calm yourself," Lauren said, watching her in disbelief as she began trying to snatch Sugar's phone to get her to pay attention.

"Well I just… The formal is only a week and a half away! We're running out of time!"

From beside Lauren on the couch opposite Santana's, Brittany put her hand in the air. Rachel pointed to Brittany, shushed everyone and then clasped her hands in front of her expectantly. Everyone groaned.

"Please, please, dear god, don't encourage Rachel's weird 'playing teacher' fetish," Amy said hurriedly, tugging down Brittany's arm.

Brittany blinked around. "I was only going to suggest a theme...if...If that's okay?"

"Oh, yes," Rachel nodded vigorously, bright eyed.

"Well...how about Disney! Where we all dress as our favourite Disney characters. The decorations would be super easy too. We just recreate Disneyland."

At the front of the room, Santana watched Rachel's eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth open, pausing as she tried to figure out a polite way to ease Brittany down gently.

"It'd be a good idea, and heaps of options to choose from," Santana said, shrugged and looking around at the others. "Plus I'm pretty sure we can convince Finn to be the raccoon off of Pocahontas."

"Nuh-uh," Emma shook her head. "He's Pumba for sure."

Everyone broke into laughter at this. All except Rachel, who closed her eyes, took a deep breath and began counting silently to ten. Santana caught her in the act and began to laugh harder, nudging Mercedes who let out a shout.

"Oh my goodness, Rachel, seriously, girl, you need to chill out. There, we've got a theme, right guys?"

Santana nodded along with everyone else, looking at over Brittany and finding her beaming proudly.

Rachel snapped her eyes open, took in everyone's agreement and then began to backtrack. "Fine. Fine, we can do Disney. So long as _I _get to make use of the Belle costume that my Dads brought me for my 14th birthday without being challenged by anyone else for her role."

"This isn't theatre, Rachel," Quinn said, wrinkling her nose. "Anyone can go as what they like and there can be double ups."

Rachel stared at Quinn, scandalised.

"And to be honest," Santana added, "I think you'd be great for the part of one of the dwarves in Snow White. Your choice which one."

"But not Doc," Brittany shook her head warningly, "he's just creepy. I mean if he _really is_ a Doctor then why does he hang out in mines?"

As laughter erupted around the room, Santana watched Lauren turn to Brittany with a look of wonder. "Beautiful point, Pierce. You nailed that."

Brittany ducked her head and stifled a smile. Then she looked up and caught Santana watching her. Santana instantly jerked her eyes over to Amy- as though her look was just a casual passing one around the room.

Rachel was still trying to gain some control over the situation.

"Right. Alright well I guess there is no point trying to form a decorations committee tonight seeing as you're all not in the mood to be mature. But we could talk about our date arrangements." She turned to the manila folder she'd placed on the top of the TV and extracted a piece of paper. "I have here lists of potential parings, taking into account current relationships. This," she waved it, "is pretty much to ensure that all the tenth grade Andrews' boys can come. So. Obviously I started the matching with couples… Mike and Tina for example." She gestured and everyone turned to grin at Tina, who went red and stifled her smile.

"And Puck and Santana," Rachel continued, gesturing over in Santana's direction. Everyone turned to look at her, and Santana could feel their eyes like lights shining hard and stark into her own. She flushed, deep enough for the tinge to show through her skin tone- she was sure. And she knew everyone was registering the way that her smile at Tina's happiness had fallen spectacularly off of her face. She hadn't told anyone what had happened the day before- not after the phone call with Liv. Santana processed what she was going to say- how she was going to explain away a truth that she knew before long would spread through the boys at Andrews and wind up at Alexandra no matter what she did.

So she took a breath, attempted to jerk her shoulders into a shrug, and said: "We broke up last night."

The words affected the faces around her in a ripple. Looks of surprise, then concern, and finally, excitement at the prospect of juicy gossip (on Mercedes, Amy's and Emma's parts anyway). Sugar gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth, and Rachel began to babble about not knowing, but Santana only really took in two people's reactions properly.

Quinn, beside Tina, sat still as a stone- her jaw set and her face impassive. Santana blinked her eyes closed and opened them again to see if she was imagining it, but the look was still there. And she knew then. Santana knew what she'd probably known all along

Admitting to herself that there was something between Puck and Quinn hurt Santana far less than Santana had imagined it would. Sure, the fact that the truth had been laying belly-up and bare all around her for weeks was grim, but her acceptance of its reality just thudded into her chest. It ached, but did not strain the muscles in her chest or lash out with tears in her throat. As calmly and as carefully as she could, Santana looked away from Quinn and found Brittany's eyes.

She was staring at Santana- directly at her. And Santana knew that Brittany was back up Mt St John with Santana, running over their conversation- looking for clues that she'd missed. She saw concern and worry- like everyone else's looks. But then Brittany blinked away and shifted her eyes sideways, staring vacantly at the floor as though she was seeing something else entirely.

Santana stared at her, feeling her heart rate rising in panic as she watched Brittany seemingly struggling with a decision. Santana began running over possibilities in her mind. Did Brittany assume that Santana had broken things off with Puck because of their kiss? Or did she know something that Santana didn't about Puck and Quinn? Then she had to stop looking at Brittany because the thought of her knowing something was going on with them behind Santana's back, stung more keenly than the truth of it all.

After everyone recovered and Rachel briskly apologized again, she set about ploughing through the list. But before she'd brought it fully upright to reading position, Tina stood up and sighed.

"I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure the seniors are going to want the TV so we should have this meeting another time.

There were echoes of agreement and Santana felt the couch sift on either side of her as Mercedes and Sugar got up. Santana rose to her feet too, and followed everyone amidst their musings about different Disney characters. She didn't speak because no one spoke to her. And then Tina came up and slipped her arm through Santana's.

"You wanna talk about it?"

They were at the beginning of the hallway- and everyone had gone ahead of them- laughing and calling to one another and rattling their doors open and closed.

"No," Santana replied honestly. And then she flickered her eyes up to Tina, making sure to seem grateful. "But, thanks."

Tina squeezed Santana into a quick hug and then left her in the hallway. Santana went to her room, closed, and locked the door.

She sat in her bed and turned all the information she'd gathered like keepsakes. Spread them around her like she was getting ready to play cards.

Quinn and Puck. She was brave enough to admit that now. She felt empty about it. A surge in the pit of the stomach about how long she'd been made the fool without realizing, maybe, but nothing more.

What really was spreading through her head was the image of Brittany's reaction to the news. Santana needed to know what it had meant, and what Brittany knew. She needed Brittany not to have known anything. She needed that look to have been nothing more than Brittany wondering how she was going to make a Dory costume from Finding Nemo.

Half an hour and one barely watched Friends episode on her computer later, Santana snapped. She stood abruptly from her bed and, not daring to think harder about what she was about to do, opened her door and walked purposefully to Brittany's room.

The door was ajar, the light was on, but Brittany wasn't there. Santana hesitated, about to withdraw when she caught sight of Brittany's laptop on her bed- powered up and facing towards the door. It was opened up on her Facebook news feed. In the bottom right hand corner, Santana saw a chat icon beside the name 'Artie Abrams'.

It felt like a punch levelled at her stomach, but Santana didn't back away. Impulse dragged her fully inside Brittany's room and down onto her bed. Then, Santana reached out a hand- which jerked slightly in adrenaline- and guided the mouse to the conversation box, clicking it open.

Santana swiped her finger up to the start of the night's conversation. Artie, she saw, had instigated it.

**Artie: **_Hey :) I'm glad you're online. How was your day? _

**Brittany: **_It's been okay, thanks Artie. How about yours? _

**Artie: **_Gooood! :D _

**Artie: **_I got a text from Rachel earlier, asking me if I was your date to the Formal. I didn't know what to say so I told her to ask you. Hope that's okay :)_

**Brittany: **_Okie dokie, well she hasn't asked me yet. But she wrote a list so I think she was going to but we ran out of time. We're doing a Disney themed one and it was my suggestion :) _

**Artie: **_That's cool. So, what are you going to tell Rachel when she asks? _

**Brittany: **_I don't know. I think you'd be a great date though :) _

Santana's stomach clenched. She no longer cared if anyone walked in- she was entirely focused on what she was reading- focused so hard it almost hurt. She swiped her finger down to bring up more of the conversation, and leaned closer to the screen.

**Artie: **_Well all you have to do is ask. :) _

**Artie: **_And have you thought anymore about what I asked you last night on the phone? _

Santana's mind shot to the memory of sitting on the same place on Brittany's bed the night before- Artie's phone call buzzing insistently between them on the blankets. She felt sick but she didn't stop reading.

**Brittany: **_Yeah I have, and you know that I think you're like...super great :) But I don't know if us being boyfriend and girlfriend would be fair on you. _

**Artie: **_Why not_

**Artie: **_?_

**Brittany: **_Because I'd spread myself too thin over our relationship. _

**Brittany: **_And no one likes a thin spread of peanut butter so why should I expect you to put up with it in a relationship? _

**Artie: **_? I don't get what you mean. Why would you spread yourself thin?_

**Brittany: **_Because I think I used up all my peanut butter on another piece of toast, and there's not enough left for anyone else. _

**Artie: **_So… you don't want to date because you're in to someone else. _

**Brittany: **_Yeah :( I'm sorry Artie xoxo You know I think you are the loveliest boy I know. _

**Artie: **_Obviously not the loveliest boy _

**Artie: **_otherwise we wouldn't even be having this conversation. _

**Brittany: **_Trust me Artie, you are the loveliest boy. I'm sorry again, and I hope we can be friends. I'd love to bring you to the formal, too, as friends. I think you'd make the best Pinocchio ever because you wear clothes like him. _

**Artie**_: Alright. Well I'll have to think and get back you to. But thanks for being straight up about it all. _

That was the last message- the one he'd just sent. Santana sat staring at it, her heart beating so hard it was painful. Dimly, something twigged in her that she couldn't be caught in Brittany's room looking through her messages, so she got shakily off the bed and made her way back to her own room. Once inside, she shut the door and realized her hands were shaking. She clutched them together and leaned her forehead against the door. It was cool and soothing and made Santana realize she'd been so worked up she felt feverish.

And there was something else-some, foreign, swelling sensation inside her that made her feel light as air and just as fragile.

* * *

><p><strong>Any questions ect, don't hesitate to visit my Tumblr- lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com<strong>


	10. Where You Found Her

**Hello!**

**Here's chapter nine. Hope you enjoy this one ;) **

**Thanks to my lovely beta- ******T97Carolina.********

**Ch 9: Where You Found Her**

Santana wanted to destroy the Asian man at the $2 store in town who had sold Rachel Berry a loudspeaker. In fact, she wanted to destroy the inventor of loud speakers or just the inventor of any sort of voice amplifier in general. Rachel was standing at the very edge of the dining room, looking at everyone scattered around putting up decorations. She kept saying she was taking a step back and looking at the overall Feng Shui of the room. If Santana had been any closer, and not wrestling with a life size cardboard painted Mickey Mouse, she would have hit her.

"Up, higher..._higher _Quinn. Yes. Perfect...Ah! Ah, ah, ah, no Sugar- please _refrain _from tying balloons to the sprinklers. Get off the ladder and give it to Brittany so she can put up the castle banner on the back wall because she CANNOT stand on the pool table to do it because she will rip the felt."

Santana was pretty sure she wasn't the only one who stopped what they were doing and sent Rachel a death stare, but Brittany- kneeling on the edge of the pool table- just shrugged and climbed right up- tip toeing over the felt with the castle banner draped over her shoulders like a cape. The loud speaker in Rachel's hand squealed as she engaged it again.

"Brittany. I'm being deathly serious when I tell you that ripping that felt could land you with expulsion from the decorating committee…hey!" Rachel's voice dropped in volume and Santana looked around Mickey to see Mercedes snatch the loudspeaker off of her and remove the batteries.

"Enough, Rachel. Just go help Amy and Emma put up the window black outs."

Rachel huffed theatrically, tossed her hair, and made her way over to the windows.

Smirking, Santana turned back to the wall upon which she was supposed to be attaching Mickey. She put him down on the floor and unhooked the roll of masking tape from her wrist- running her fingers around it to try and find the edge. She seperated three long strips with her teeth and stuck them by their edges to a nearby table hooked the tape back around her wrist and picked Mickey back up. Tina had drawn him,- and he was awesome- done in the old school Steam Boat Willy style. But he proved almost impossible to secure to the wall. A little further down, Santana noticed Lauren engaged in a similar struggle with a huge Donald Duck.

Trying to pin Mickey still with her elbow, Santana managed to wiggle the tape back from around her wrist to give the masking tape already stuck to the wall some reinforcements. But her awkward position made her grip upon the tape tenuous, and it flipped out of her hands and rolled along the floor. Santana groaned and looked back up at Mickey.

"If I let you go, you're going to be a shit head and fall, aren't you?" She asked his frozen, smiling face.

"Here ya go." She was nudged on the arm and looked up to see Brittany holding out the masking tape.

"Oh, thanks." Brittany was very close, and Santana was flustered, so she moved her arm away from Mickey to grab the tape, causing him to flop over onto the top of her head.

"Oh, what the hell," she groaned, batting him away and stepping backwards. He curved slowly, yet resolutely to the floor.

"Bad Mickey," Brittany scolded, and bent to pick him up. She settled him back up upon the wall where Santana had had him before, and flattened the old pieces of tape hard against the wall. "Pass me some more?" She put a hand over her shoulder, using the other to keep him steady. Hurriedly, Santana picked at the tape, unravelling and biting several strips.

He stuck after eleven strips. Brittany and Santana stepped back to admire their handy work, both a little breathless.

"Looks good," Brittany nodded.

"Yeah," Santana agreed.

"It looks wonderful!" Rachel bustled up behind them. "But considering it took you both twenty minutes to get it up because you were making masking tape moustaches, I think it would be fair of me to recommend placing you at opposite ends of the room so that we can finish decorating sometime _before_ the formal starts."

Brittany raised her twisted up masking tape that she'd shaped into a drooping handle bar moustache and stuck it against her upper lip. Then she pouted.

"Someone's grumpy."

Rachel shook her head in deep disapproval.

"Oh come on!" Santana called through her laugher, "it's only like four thirty and the formal doesn't start till seven!"

Rachel rounded on her.

"Yes, but in that time we have to have all this done so that the seniors can set up the sound system, as well as have dinner _and _get ready. Now I don't know about you but my Belle dress requires a rather elaborate preparation."

Santana snorted. "Well I, being a normal person, have just got a brown dress, a belt, a feather head band and some face paint."

"Pocahontas?" Brittany said, her voice jumping in excitement. Santana looked at her and tried to keep her voice casual.

"Well, duh."

"I really would have picked you for a character more like Meg, off of Hercules," Rachel said, tilting her head to the side to look at Santana. "But then I _can _also see how Pocahontas would suit your skin tone and ethnic compatibility."

Santana screwed up her face. "Last time I checked, I wasn't a Native American and Belle wasn't a Jew- just if we're going for ethnic compatibility."

"Being Jewish isn't an _ethnicity," _Rachel shot back.

"It can be sometimes," Brittany said, "I googled it." She still had the moustache on her face and Santana had to look away as she began to laugh again.

"I can't go as Meg anyway," Santana interrupted Rachel's retort to Brittany, sensing the stirrings of a long-winded lecture, "Lauren is."

Rachel's eyes widened comically, and she shot a look around at Lauren who was down the other end of the dining room, helping shift the couches to make a dancing area.

Santana kept her face straight and shrugged.

"She wanted to wear a toga and who am I to get in the way of that?"

Lauren's depiction of Meg turned out to be surprisingly awesome. Santana raised her eyebrows, impressed, when Lauren slid back her door to show off her expertly tied and sashed purple toga, and her long, curled purple wig.

"You look hot!" She said, grinning. Lauren performed half a twirl.

"Thanks, Pocahontas."

Santana turned her eyes back to her mirror and resumed drawing the straightener through her hair so that it hung around her face in a long, dark curtain. "Not quite. Still need my head band and the pillow case I'm using for a dress."

"Pillow case?" Lauren asked incredulously.

Santana put down her straighteners and tugged her fingers through her hair to get it to all sit right. "Well, it's not a pillowcase exactly. But it's short enough to be one."

Lauren snorted. "Why do I believe that whole-heartedly?"

Santana shrugged coyly, but broke it off when Sugar came stumbling through her door, bumping into the back of Lauren and then over like a pinball to lie across Santana's bed. She had her eyes closed, and her body shaking from snorted giggles.

"Jesus…" Lauren muttered in alarm. "What happened to you?"

"And what Disney character are you?" Santana added, taking in the large black fur coat Sugar was wearing.

Sugar just rolled around and laughed harder, clutching her stomach.

"Uh, hi, is Sugar in here? I hear her." Brittany poked her head around the door and then sueezed in beside Lauren. Santana experienced a brief moment of blankness as she took in Brittany's outfit- bright turquoise colored highwaisted jeans and a purple shell shaped bikini top. Her hair was all pinned back- and Santana guessed there was a red wig to go along with it.

"Wow!" Lauren exclaimed. "Britts you look fiiine!"

Brittany flushed lightly and smiled. "Thanks! I'm Ariel! But I couldn't find a mermaid's tale that didn't make me trip over."

"Nice improv with the jeans," Lauren shot her two thumbs up and, Brittany returned the gesture.

"Thanks, Meg," She said, skittering her eyes over to Santana. "You look nice," she smiled lightly, her eyes playing over Santana's hair.

Santana mouth had gone dry, and she dropped her eyes resolutely to the floor, smiling an airy smile at it.

"Thanks."

A second loud gush of giggles from her bed made her look up again. Sugar had her hands over her face, almost choking on her laughter.

"There's Sugar," Lauren said to Brittany, her eyebrows quirking with amusement.

"Yeah," Brittany darted forwards and held her hands out to Sugar. "Come on, we were having quiet time in your room remember? You don't want Rory to see you like this do you?"

Sugar dropped her hands from her face and shook her head vehemently. "Nooooooo. That would be baaaaad."

"Uh-huh," Brittany said, wiggling her fingers. "So come on."

Sugar took them, and Brittany hauled her up off the bed; she looked apologetically at Lauren and Santana., "She's drunk."

"We can see that," Lauren said, her nose slightly wrinkled. "How the hell did she manage that?"

"Amy snuck some vodka in from home last weekend in a water bottle. And she, Emma, Quinn and Sugar have been doing shots."

"Dear God, do _not _let Rachel know."

"Oh, don't worry," Brittany tugged one of Sugar's arms around her shoulders, and propped her upright. "Rachel's with Tina and Mercedes getting her Belle dress on. Let's go," she turned and maneuvered Sugar out of the door.

"If that's Sugar's state, don't you think we should go check on the others?" Lauren suggested.

"Yeah…" Santana said slowly, trying to blink the image of Brittany out of her head. "Yeah, we probably should."

She followed Lauren out into the hall and felt the sink of disappointment when she saw that Brittany and Sugar had already disappeared into Sugar's room. They walked past it, and Santana strained to hear Brittany's voice, but anything that was happening in Sugar's room was utterly drowned out by the music and laughter that was coming from Emma's room a few feet down. the hall way. Lauren and Santana shot one another a look, and then Lauren stepped up to the door and rattled it open.

From behind Lauren, Santana could hear the laughter and excitement swell as Amy, Emma and Quinn recognized who it was.

"Lauren! Baby, come have some shots," Amy dragged Lauren, who was shushing them desperately, into the room. Santana stepped up to the doorway in her place and took in everyone's costumes. Amy was wearing a long blue dress and elbow gloves with a plastic tiara. Cinderella. She was hanging off of Lauren and trying to ply her with a shot. Emma and Quinn were slumped on the bed. Quinn was wearing a rumpled green dress and fairy wings. Emma was in her bra and underwear.

They both noticed Santana at the same time, and while Emma squealed in excitement and attempted, unsuccessfully, to navigate off of the bed, falling back down and dissolving into fresh laughter. Santana just shook her head and grinned, but then froze when she looked at Quinn, whose features had begun to warble with tears.

Santana felt panic flush through her as one sob, then another raked through Quinn's body, and she began to take heaving breaths.

"What the…" Lauren had turned around from inspecting the alcohol on Emma's desk to the noise, and Amy turned down the music on her laptop.

"Quinn, what's wrong?" She stepped closer, frowning. Emma, sitting beside Quinn, seemed completely unfazed by the tears. She just waved a limp hand.

"Don't worry about her. She's just crying coz Santana's here."

"What?" Santana blurted, looking between Emma and Quinn in confusion. "

"Shh, Emma," Amy giggled, slapping the air near Lauren's head.

"What the hell is she so upset at Santana for?" Lauren was staring at Quinn, who had curled her knees up into her body and ducked her head against them, her shoulders jerking with her sobs.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so, so sorry." And then she lifted her head and looked right at Santana, her face all scrunched up in pain. Tears had blurred her make up down her face.

Santana thought she knew what for, so she didn't ask. She felt weak with embarrassment, and she wanted to turn around and leave and sit on her bed and block out what was happening, but then Lauren bent low and said softly, "what are you sorry for? What happened?"

"It doesn't mat-" Santana started to say, but Quinn's drunken, slightly hysterical voice rose easily above her own.

"The first time...the first time we did it in the holidays I never meant it to happen… he just came to visit. I didn't ask him to. I don't want him, I was just so-so sad and lonely and he was just there and…"

Santana felt like she had been doused in hot and then freezing water in quick succession. It was the white hot tingling of panic all over her body. She tried to block out what Quinn was saying, but Amy and Emma and Lauren were hearing it too; and Quinn wouldn't stop. She shook off anyone's attempts to interrupt her.

"And at the party… At Lauren's party, he told me he wanted to be with me, and I said no, that I couldn't. And he was really drunk, and everything happened so fast, and then you and Brittany…"

Everything inside Santana stilled as Quinn took a half sobbed- half hiccupped breath. She felt like she was going to be sick, and she was mentally screaming at Quinn to not carry on the sentence. But she did, relentlessly.

"...came back from outside, and Puck started kissing you and being all over you, and I realized that I liked him, too, kind of a little bit. And I'm so sorry that he- that he broke up with you for me. I didn't mean for it to hurt you… I didn't know he was going to…"

"Stop." Santana said. "Stop." She was shaking, she realized, when she held up a hand to block Quinn's face. She was shaking, and she could feel nausea catching up with her panic- flooding through her stomach.

Quinn's words came to a slurred halt and were overtaken by a fresh bout of tears.

"Santana…" Lauren turned to her with shock shattered all over her face.

"Get her sobered up," Santana snapped. "She'll be expelled if Miss Cowley sees her like this. And we have to be out of the dorm in an hour."

Then she turned and left Emma's room, not stopping to breathe or calm down until she was in her room. She sank on her bed and tried to get her heart to slow down. She'd dealt with the truth about Puck and Quinn already, but having to hear just how deceived she'd been- and have other people hear it too- was excruciatingly embarrassing. She and Puck had both been lying to one another- and she was beyond caring enough about him romantically to be upset. And God knows Quinn going after Puck was just confirmation in Santana's eyes that she was just that same, immature girl who hadn't changed from last year.

But the fact that she had to care, and the fact that she looked like she'd be completely left for dead by Puck and Quinn in everyone else's eyes was what got to her the most. She felt tears coming up into her throat, but she shook her head as if to tell them no. She couldn't do this right now. She had to paint her face like Pocahontas and get through the night. She thought of Brittany, and she wished she was with her. She wished nothing had to matter.

* * *

><p>The finalized version of Rachel's pairing list came to life five minutes before the Formal was due to start. All of the Andrews' boys arrived at the same time through the foyer, and the tenth graders waited off to one side by the couches for everyone to come down from their dorm.<p>

Rachel and Finn made a particularly good Beauty and the Beast, Santana had to admit. Finn was large and lumbering enough to pull it off. Mercedes and Sam were tight lipped and shy standing together as Jasmine and Simba. Beside them, Tina and Mike were canoodling as Alice in Wonderland and Captain Hook. Lauren had invited as her date a guy from her Film Society afterschool club called Jacob- who kept grinning nervously around at everyone and pushing his glasses up his nose. Lauren told everyone how she'd tried to get him to go as the goat man Phil from Hercules to match her Meg. But he'd just worn jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt.

Brittany had managed to sober up Sugar enough to get her standing and smiling and laughing with Rory- who was dressed, he told everyone, as Jiminy Cricket, with Sugar's fur coat helping her pass for Cruella de Vil. Emma and Amy were also sufficiently sober, and had brought matching Prince Charming's from the football team named Mitch and Drew. Brittany had plopped herself down on the couch beside Artie- who was dressed in his usual clothes- but had brought a long, fake pointed nose so everyone could see he was Pinocchio. He kept on having to shift it sideways to talk to Brittany, and eventually he just let it hang down around his neck.

Quinn was sitting demurely on the couch beside Brittany. Santana though she still looked wasted- with her eyes red rimmed and drooping. Her date was perched on the seat beside her- dressed in a green shirt and tights and hat- with a feather- The Peter Pan to her wilted Tinkerbelle. He was someone that Santana hadn't seen before- short and compact with brushed back dark hair and bright eyes. Santana's gay-dar was buzzing like crazy when she look at him, but it could have been picking up residual vibes from Kurt, who approached Santana, grinning his gummy smile and travelling his eyes up and down her outfit.

"Hello, Pocahontas," he hip bummed her and then flicked the feather on her head band. She took in his appearance and almost wanted to hug him. He had drawn a black dot on his nose, and dressed like Mickey Mouse- complete with a mouse eared headband.

"If you had told me, I would have dressed like Mini Mouse," she laughed. "We would have been the best dressed dates ever."

"Better than Rachel and Finn anyway," Kurt muttered, jerking his head over to where Rachel was attempting to stick bits of brown fur to his cheeks, and he was trying to bat her off.

"Not hard," Santana shrugged.

"Shall we?" Kurt laughed and jutted his elbow outwards for her to take. He led her towards the dining room, where the seniors had started up the music.

Inside the dining room, with the lights all dimmed and the food tables all set up, the decorations looked awesome. Santana took Kurt over to the Mickey Mouse and showed him her contribution, which he said it was the best taping job he'd ever seen. They walked back to the dance floor, which was crowded with couples swaying together awkwardly- it was too early in the night for everyone to feel comfortable.

"You wanna sit down?" Kurt called into her ear over the music. Santana nodded and directed him over to one of the couches that Lauren had pushed up against the wall. When they were seated, Santana drew her eyes around the crowd and spotted Brittany and Artie dancing with Mike and Tina. Brittany was shimming her shoulders right up into Mike, and Tina was being spun around by Artie in his chair. Behind them, off to one side, Quinn and her short Peter Pan were leaning against a wall, talking, but it looked more like he was trying to get her to stay awake- she kept slumping to one side, turning her head lethargically towards him.

Kurt had followed her eye line. "Makes a cute Peter Pan, doesn't he?" He let out a nervous trail of laughter and then shook his head, looking down to his knees.

"Well, he certainly pulls off the fact that Peter Pan is supposed to be ten years old. But I guess he's cute. Who is he?" And then she added, in a flat, grim voice, "I thought Quinn was dating Puck."

Kurt snapped his head up to her, looking like he should have been dressed as Bambi rather than Mickey.

"I didn't think you...how did you know...I…" He began to splutter, darting his eyes around her face.

In contrast to his panic, Santana was calm. She just shrugged.

"She told me earlier tonight. She's trashed and she cried and admitted it all." Santana turned her head back to the mass of dancers, because it was easier to say the words to them than to Kurt. "I guess I knew for a while that something was going on."

"We...we suspected, too. But we weren't sure. You know that if we were we would have told you…"

Santana shrugged, and focused harder on picking out the different characters everyone was dressed in. She noticed four girls dressed like Belle, which she knew would piss Rachel right off.

"You never answered my question about Peter Pan," She reminded Kurt.

"Oh, right! Yes. His name's Blaine, and he's a year younger- a new guy. And he's super cute and…"

"Is he gay?" She asked, turning back to Kurt who pressed his lips together and shrugged.

"Yet to be confirmed. He's in my music class, and when Rachel told me that Quinn needed a date but didn't want to invite any of the guys in tenth grade I, uh, suggested him."

"Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about with him and Quinn," Santana murmured. "She's taken, apparently."

Instead of laughing the comment off like Santana hoped he would, Kurt tilted his head toward her, looking concerned.

"Are you okay? This must be really horrible for you. I wish there was…" he stopped and shook his head. "I'm just sorry."

Santana shrugged for what she felt like was the millionth time during their conversation.

"Okay," Kurt dipped his head. "We can talk about something else if you want."

But they didn't speak again for a moment until Santana took a breath and said, "I don't think I care as much about Puck and Quinn as I should."

Kurt was quiet, and then he took her hand. Santana looked down in surprise and then up at him.

"I'm fine," she said. "Really, I am."

"Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet?"

"No, it has," Santana shook her head. And then, slowly, she raised her eyes out to where she'd last seen Brittany. She was dancing with Sam now, and he was laughing awkwardly as she spun and dipped him. Santana fought a smile and then looked away. That's when she spotted Quinn and Blaine in the far corner of the room. Quinn was slumped over on the floor, with Blaine bent over her, looking around them in panic.

Santana shot up off the couch and tugged at Kurt, ignoring his babbled questions as she led him over to the corner.

"Just shh and keep a look out for matrons," she muttered when they reached Blaine and Quinn. Kurt's eyes fell on Quinn, and he immediately stopped his questions and nodded, turning his back to them. Santana bent down beside Blaine.

"She just fell over," he muttered. "I think she's passed out. She's really drunk."

"Yeah," Santana reached over and slapped Quinn's cheek briskly. Her heavy eyelids fluttered and she groaned. Santana turned to Blaine. "Can you go and get Rachel for me?"

He looked at her blankly.

"The chick dressed as Belle," she prompted. Blaine craned his head around.

"There are like 6 of them," he said in panic. Santana rolled her eyes, and tugged at the hem of Kurt's red Mickey Mouse shorts. He turned around and bent down. "Take Peter Pan and send Rachel over, please," she hissed.

Kurt nodded and signalled to Blaine. As they left, Quinn groaned louder and tried to open her eyes, clawing upwards at Santana's arms.

"I feel so sick," she mumbled.

"It's okay," Santana said, getting fully down on her knees and pulling Quinn up so that she was supported against Santana. "We'll get you back to the dorm in a minute, hold on."

Santana thanked God that Blaine had had the sense to direct Quinn right into the corner of the room so that she didn't draw attention. After a moment, Rachel appeared down beside them, kneeling so her yellow dress poofed all around her.

"Quinn? What's…what's going on?"

"She's drunk," Santana said, figuring it was better to be frank. Rachel's face dropped into panicked disapproval.

"Santana, she could get expelled...this is so dangerous. I…"

"Shut it," Santana snapped, tugging Quinn, who was slipping, further upright. "We are not going to make a fuss, do you hear me? I will seriously punch you in the face if you make a deal about this right now. You can rant in the morning, but for now we have to somehow bullshit our way into the dorms and get Quinn to bed."

Rachel opened her mouth in what looked like was going to be disagreement, but Santana shook her head warningly.

"Rachel. Do not do this right now. I need you to help me get her into the office. And I need _you _to lie to the matrons in the office. Tell them that she's got a stomach bug."

"Look at her, Santana, they'll never buy it."

Santana didn't look down at Quinn. Instead she pulled her further upright and shook her head at Rachel again.

"They will buy it from you. You're the one they trust, remember? The one in a position of responsibility."

Santana watched Rachel's resolve flicker as her words angled at Rachel's pride hit their mark. But then she frowned deeper.

"And I really shouldn't be abusing that responsibility."

"No," Santana shook her head, "you probably shouldn't. But how much are they going to trust you when they find out that people got drunk in the dorm that you are supposed to be the captain of?"

It worked. Santana watched in relief as Rachel's face dropped.

"Okay, okay!" She sighed. "I cannot believe I am doing this but _okay! _Let's get her up."

Santana nodded and heaved Quinn up so that she and Rachel could slip their arms around her. Shakily, they stood upright, Quinn lolling on them, groaning louder than ever.

"My stomach...I…"

"Shh, it's okay," Santana called over the music as they supported her through the dance floor.

It took a while, but eventually, Santana and Rachel eased Quinn out of the dining room, down the outside ramp, and into the foyer. Miss Pillsbury was sitting in the office, and she stood up when she caught sight of Santana and Rachel with Quinn groaning in between them.

"Go," Santana muttered as Miss Pillsbury opened the door to the office and approached them. Santana took Quinn's whole weight as Rachel sealed herself and stepped forwards.

"Miss Pillsbury, we were wondering if we could be granted permission to take Quinn up to the dorm and put her to bed? She was feeling unwell at the beginning of the night but it has progressed to intense nausea and we didn't think she should be made to stay at the Formal."

Miss Pillsbury stepped closer to Quinn and ducked her head down to try and catch Quinn's gaze.

Santana stilled in fright, holding her breath for the moment it would become apparent that Quinn was smashed off her face. But then Rachel stepped in between Quinn and Miss Pillsbury and pulled a flash of genius out of her ass.

"Oh, no no Miss Pillsbury, I wouldn't get too close. She's been needing to vomit."

Miss Pillsbury's face dropped, and she took several hurried steps backwards. "Alright. Yes, you're right. You-you girls go up and sort her out, that's very...yes that's very good and responsible and it would mean no mess for me," she laughed in an oddly manic way and trotted towards the door that led to the stair well up to the tenth grade dorm, holding it open for them.

"Nice," Santana breathed to Rachel once they'd started up the stairs and Miss Pillsbury had closed the door on them. On the other side of Quinn, Rachel shrugged.

"Everyone knows Miss Pillsbury's OCD means the idea of dealing with vomit is the equivalent of getting mugged for a normal person."

Santana doubted that, but she didn't disagree, concentrating on getting Quinn, who was practically a dead weight, up the stairs.

Once they reached Quinn's room and put her on the bed, they paused, breathing heavily.

"Now what?" Rachel asked.

"Water and sleep," Santana replied. Quinn had her eyes fully closed now, her body spread loosely out all over the bed. Her breathing was even and calmer now. "She should be okay."

"Should one of us stay with her?" Rachel asked.

"Probably," Santana replied. "I can-"

"Puck…" Quinn groaned, sighing heavily and rolling over.

Santana saw Rachel shoot her an alarmed look. "No, maybe...no, it's okay I can stay. You just go down and tell Finn what happened okay?"

Santana nodded and then she touched Rachel lightly on the arm to make her look up from Quinn.

"Hey, Rachel, thank you."

To her immense relief, Rachel just gave her a small smile and a short nod and then bent back over Quinn. Santana turned and left the room gratefully.

When she explained to Finn what had happened, he was only mildly disappointed before he reached up and began to tug the tufts of fur off of his cheeks in relief.

"I can finally take these off!"

"Yeah, you can buddy," she supressed a laugh and patted him on the arm. She turned, intending to find Lauren, Tina, Mercedes or Sugar to fill them in, but instead, someone snaked their arms around her waist and guided into a hip swing that followed the hip-hop rhythm of the song playing. Santana tried to pull away to see who had grabbed her, but she was being held very firmly, and then Brittany's face appeared, hooked right over her shoulder.

"Hi San," she smiled.

It was like every nerve under Santana's skin began to short circuit. A lump of panic rose right up in her throat and her stiffened body made the hip sway awkward and clunky. She made to step away and this time Brittany let her go but when Santana turned to face her, she was still smiling.

"Sorry, that's just the way to dance to this song." She gestured around and Santana noticed that most people were doing similar movements. There were mostly girls with their dates, but a couple of eleventh and twelfth graders were grinding against one another, laughing and singing along. No one around them seemed to care. And none of them looked like their body was enduring an electrical storm like Santana's was. She passed her hands up and down her upper arms as goosebumps rose across the skin there. And she nodded and tried to laugh it off.

"Sorry, I just got startled."

Brittany tossed her head and shrugged, "that's okay." She began to hum and sway on the spot and Santana stood awkwardly in front of her, not really knowing what to do. After a moment the song changed to a faster beat and Brittany lit a grin on Santana's face, holding out her hands. "No sneak up dancing now, just twirling," she called.

Santana couldn't have said no even if she wanted to. She put her hands into Brittany's outstretched ones and let Brittany spin her through the dancers around them. She let the movements lift her thoughts up off of her shoulders and she closed her eyes and relaxed into Brittany's rhythm.

By the time the song had ended, Mercedes, Tina, Sam, Mike, Emma, Amy and their dates had joined them so that they were spread out in a dancing circle. As everyone took turns performing a goofy solo dance in the middle, Santana's stomach began to ache from laughter. Brittany had been the last to perform, and by far the best. Santana had been so mesmerised by Brittany's curving hips and the roll of her stomach that she hadn't even bothered to monitor the length of her stares.

"Woo!" Brittany lifted her arms as the song wound down and changed into a slower beat. She headed over to stand by Santana as everyone else paired up to dance with their dates through the slower song. Noticing Brittany was breathing heavily, and flushed from her solo, Santana tilted her head close and pointed towards the couches.

"Wanna take a break?" Brittany fanned her hand in front of her face and nodded gratefully.

On their way over they saw Kurt and Blaine sitting together on a four seater couch talking and laughing together.

"Should we go say hi?" Brittany nodded at them, but Santana shook her head and directed them to an empty couch on the other side of the room.

"We wouldn't want to cramp Kurt's style."

Brittany swivelled her eyes back to them and then to Santana, beaming.

"Does he like the Peter Pan guy?"

Santana nodded as they arrived at the empty couch and sat down. Brittany clapped and wiggled in her seat.

"That's super exciting."

"Yeah," Santana nodded. "It's good for Kurt."

"And, oh my gosh, look, can you feel the love tonight or what?"

Brittany was pointing just down from Kurt and Blaine, but Santana had to lean closer to see past a group of ninth graders and their dates. She felt her insides trill as she caught the scent of Brittany's perfume- light and playful. One of the Britney Spears ones, if she remembered correctly. She was about to ask whether it was 'Circus' or 'Curious' when she caught sight of who Brittany was pointing at.

Artie had parked his chair beside one of the couches. Sitting in his lap was a girl Santana didn't recognise. She had her arms slung around her shoulders and was laughing as he whispered something in her ear.

"Do you care?" Santana asked carefully. She kept her eyes fixed on Artie until the pause between her question and Brittany's answer became overly elongated, then she stole a glance sideways and stilled. Brittany was looking right at her, with the oddest expression that Santana couldn't place.

She laughed nervously and tilted her head at Brittany.

"What are you looking at? What?"

Brittany blinked slowly once and then shrugged. She didn't look away and Santana felt a heat creep up her neck and face. She forced another laugh.

"I asked you a question, weirdo."

Brittany's lips curved into a small smile and then she said, 'it doesn't bother me even a little bit."

* * *

><p>The Formal wound down not long after eleven o'clock, and by the time Santana made it back to her room her feet were aching and she was glad it was over. She rattled her door closed to the sounds of everyone else engaged in their post- Formal discussions, and tugged off her head band, leaning towards her mirror to wipe the face paint off her cheeks with make-up remover.<p>

At 11:30, Miss Pillsbury came upstairs to get everyone into bed, and Santana went to hers gratefully, sinking into her pillows and taking a deep breath. She couldn't stop thinking about the look Brittany had given her on the couches. They'd been interrupted a moment later by Sugar and Tina, so Santana had never been able to work out what it meant.

As soon as the dorm was quiet and Santana was undistracted, her brain started turning over all the possibilities. She could feel her palms sweating under the blankets just thinking about it and she tossed them aside irritably. There was a loud clatter as her phone- that she'd forgotten had been amongst her covers- hit the floor. Santana twisted out of bed to retrieve it. She bent back up right and lit up the screen to check she hadn't broken it and then an idea seized her. She ignored it and put her phone under her pillow but as soon as she did, she pulled it back out again, navigated into 'create message', added Brittany as the recipient and typed: "_Are you awake?"_

Then, her heart in her throat, she pressed send. As soon as she saw the notification that the message had gone through, Santana dropped her phone under her blankets and pressed her pillow to her face- trying to block out any possibility that she'd actually sent it. After a moment, however, her stomach jumped in excitement and horror as she felt her phone vibrate against her mattress.

She waited until the curiosity overwhelmed her and then she reached put and felt blindly for her phone, not removing the pillow from her face. When she located it, she brought it to her face and peeked at the screen through the tiniest gap she allowed her eyes.

"_Yup! I can't really sleep. You wanna come visit?" _

Santana read the message through twice, and then, before she could think better of it, she dropped her phone back onto her bed and got up, easing her door open and heading down the hallway.

When she cracked Brittany's door open, she could smell the perfume she'd smelled earlier more strongly. Brittany's curtain was open slightly; letting in the light from the security lamp outside like it had been the last time Santana had been there after lights out. She could see Brittany sitting up at the end of her bed.

"Hi," she said softly, and gave Santana a little wave.

Santana closed the door and leaned against it, feeling giddy. Her throat was swollen with all the questions she wanted to ask and the things she wanted to say but wasn't brave enough to. It wasn't confidence that had gotten her as far as she had into Brittany's room. It was blind recklessness. And it was still coursing through her.

She fixed her eyes on Brittany.

"I need to know what's going on. I need to know what's going on with us and if I'm the reason that you broke it off with Artie because I think…" Santana's recklessness was ebbing and hesitance crept into her voice. It started to shake and she stumbled over her words. "Because...I think...I think I might be...I...am I…?"

Her voice broke into a plea and she swallowed heavily, watching as Brittany took in what she had said. Her expression was almost unreadable, like it had been on the couches.

Santana was fighting the impulse to pull the door open and run back to her room when Brittany unfolded her legs and stood up. She came right up to Santana, and looked into her face. Santana had never been so exhilarated and afraid in her whole life. It was like her body was being torn in two directions- out the door to safety, or into Brittany's look.

As it turned out, Brittany's gravity wasn't even worth trying to fight. Santana stayed stock still as Brittany came right up close to her, lifted her hands, hesitated, smiled a small, gentle smile and then reached for Santana's face. Santana let herself be drawn forward, and she let herself put her arms around Brittany's waist, spreading her palms across the material at her lower back. She could feel the heat of her skin through it.

Their faces were so close that their noses were almost touching, and Santana could feel the pattern of Brittany's breath as she spoke.

"You're the reason."

That was all she said but the words made Santana feel like her world had tilted sideways. And in the rush of everything she knew turning in on itself, Santana closed the distance between their faces and kissed Brittany.

Brittany's mouth gave under the pressure of Santana's instantly, and she let out a small groan. A groan that sent a rush of heat in between Santana's legs and made her surge forward, so that Brittany had to back up slightly.

They didn't stop kissing, and fumbled together across the floor to Brittany's bed. Through the heat and swell of Brittany's tongue, Santana felt them both jerk backwards against the mattress. Lying down on top of Brittany, Santana felt like the world had suddenly righted itself, and she drew back out of the kiss to look down at Brittany's face.

The expression on it was open and quietly desperate and she flexed her hands against the back of Santana's neck.

"Don't stop… We don't have to…" But Santana didn't let her finish her words. The need in Brittany's voice had caused a beating to drop down between Santana's legs- thick and heavy and she ducked her head and caught Brittany's moving lips up in a kiss.

This one had a new kind of urgency. And as Santana crushed her hips down against Brittany and felt Brittany arch and roll her own in response, she felt like she was sinking deeper into a feeling and a situation she couldn't control. Santana became almost incensed, surging her mouth harder against Brittany's, darting her tongue deeper, shuddering as Brittany's hands slid slow and hard down her back.

In a breathless haze, Santana felt Brittany shift her mouth away. They lay, breathing heavily, their eyes all over one another's faces.

"Is this… are you okay?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded vehemently and then whispered, "Just breathing," and smiled.

Santana smiled softly back and let herself breathe, too. After a moment, Brittany's smile turned coy, and she pulled Santana back to her lips. As their hunger heightened again, and Brittany's tongue curled over her own, Santana felt Brittany shifting sideways, swivelling them around mid-kiss.

In their new position, Santana was lying flat on her back and Brittany was lying on her side, using the rest of the space the bed allowed. They broke the kiss again, and Santana reached up to brush Brittany's hair aside, which had been tickling her cheeks.

"Sorry," Brittany laughed, sitting further upwards and tugging her hair tie off her wrist to pull her hair back off her face and up into a bun. Santana ran her gaze over Brittany's body as she did, circling Brittany's chest. She could see the faint juts of Brittany's nipples through her tank, and it made Santana's breathing suddenly hitched and hazardous. Brittany heard the change and, having finished tying her hair, she dropped her hands back, hooking one arm under Santana's neck and putting the other one around her waist. Then she bent her head close and peered at Santana.

"You okay?"

It was Santana's turn to nod hard and fast, but she could feel her whole body going against the nod. Every nerve felt strung up and tense as the string of a bow, and the beating between her legs was so hard and heavy that she could barely stand it. She turned her nod into a shake and shrugged. Brittany's eyebrows twitched into a worried frown.

"Do you want to st…"

"No." Santana's voice was hoarse. "No."

She took a shaky breath and dropped her eyes down her own body, where she could see her t-shirt hitched up across her stomach by Brittany's arm. Slowly, and carefully, almost as though the movements would scare her decision away, Santana picked up Brittany's arm and lifted it off of her stomach. Then she hooked her fingers around Brittany's wrist and drew her hand downwards.

As soon as Brittany's fingers made contact with the material between the legs of her pyjama shorts, Santana's breath left her like her lungs had been clamped shut. She dropped Brittany's wrist and moved her hands up around Brittany's neck, tugging her face back down.

Their kiss began softly, and Santana squeezed her eyes shut and milled her hips against Brittany's hand, which had lain still where Santana had left it. Santana skittered her tongue into Brittany's mouth and then gasped violently as Brittany began to slowly but firmly circle her fingers around the material. Santana could feel her own wetness soaking into her underwear, and panic tinged her for a second as she considered the possibility that her pyjama shorts could be wet too.

But then Brittany surged hard against her mouth, groaned into it, and moved her fingers faster and Santana lost the capacity to register anything but the taste and smell and feel of Brittany against her. Brittany's fingers grew more insistent, and Santana could hardly keep up with their kissing as her breath began to come ragged and urgent. Brittany pulled back and let her breathe, and then bent her head down and swept her tongue up the side of Santana's neck.

"_Fuck__." _The word was wrenched out of her before Santana could register herself saying it- she only heard it in her voice- harsh and low. She put her hand down to where Brittany's was and hooked her fingers around the side of her pyjama shorts and underwear, tugging them to one side. Brittany, still kissing and licking the side of Santana's neck gently, brought her fingers back and touched Santana's folds.

They gasped at the same time, and Brittany lifted her head and they looked at one another. It was hard to maintain eye contact when Santana could feel herself so urgent and wet against Brittany's fingers. But Brittany's gaze was sweltering and when she moved her fingers down through Santana's folds- down to where Santana wanted her most- Santana didn't think she could look away.

She felt a slight pressure as Brittany slipped one finger inside of her but then nothing. Brittany must have felt her wetness and her heat, because her eyebrows twitched and she drew a shaky breath. She was _too _wet, Santana realized. Too wet to feel one finger.

"Two…" she murmured quietly, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You can use two."

Brittany took another breath, gave a slight nod and then more pressure, followed by a feeling so good that Santana had to close her eyes as they rolled back into her head. Her spine curved up as Brittany began to move her fingers in and out, curling them up inside her. She picked up her rhythm until all Santana could register was the feeling of her lungs surging gasps of air in and out of her, and Brittany's fingers shooting pleasure all around her body.

"_Brittany_." Santana blearily grasped around for purchase against Brittany's back.

"I'm here," Brittany whispered back, her voice strained in effort. She bent her head close- close enough for Santana to bury her face in her neck.

Brittany's shoulder rocked against Santana's cheek from the movements of her fingers inside Santana. Santana groaned, and Brittany moved faster.

She was whispering, Santana realised dimly. Brittany was whispering and groaning her name.

"_San…" _

Santana opened her mouth and placed a wet kiss against her neck and murmured, "_harder." _

Gradually, Santana felt her insides begin to wind against themselves, and a rush built at the place Brittany was touching. Santana was scared, in a way, and she thought that her fear was the reason she clung to so hard and tilted her face up to Brittany's, settling their mouths together. As the waves of pleasure began to draw her under, Santana inhaled as Brittany exhaled, and held Brittany's breath in her lungs.

* * *

><p><strong>Any questions etc, don't hesitate to visit my Tumblr- lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr. com<strong>


	11. Building Light

**Fiiinally! An update! I'm sorry it's taken so long. **

**Please excuse any mistakes- I will probably re-edit in the morning but I wanted to get this out there. **

**Ch 10: Building Light **

Santana was propelled awake by a sense of urgency. And it was the most curious feeling- to go from nothing at all to sitting bolt upright with a spinning head and pounding heart. She was slightly disorientated so she looked around her room, which was thinly lit and quiet. Her costume from the night before was on the floor and she looked at it for a prolonged moment, thinking how it seemed to belong to a time long ago- to a version of her that was as distant and impenetrable as photograph of a stranger. The feather had come off of her headband and she spotted it underneath her desk- the failed glue clumping to the stem in fat, white lumps. She looked hard at it and began to remember the night before.

After Santana had come back down to earth Brittany had stayed bent over her. They had breathed into one another's faces, exchanging air but no words. Brittany had stared at Santana, unblinking and her eyebrows hitched like something had puzzled her. Then she'd bent closer and given Santana the lightest, most sincere kiss. Santana had opened her eyes at the tenderness of it, and watched the light fan of Brittany's eyelashes as their lips moved together. When Brittany had tried to end the kiss, Santana hadn't let her. She had pulled her back, deeper.

Santana could tell almost to the minute what time she had woken up because she could hear the hollow thuds of the caretaker moving the wheelie bins across the courtyard. He did it every day at 7.15 a.m - which meant that Santana was up ridiculously early for a Saturday morning. She got out of bed and stood in the small strip of floor in her room, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. She considered herself, thinking it was the first time in a while that she had really _looked._ She looked tired, a little hazy. But normal. It was a complete contrast to how she felt. She didn't feel normal at all. She felt like everything inside her had shifted and she didn't really know herself.

She passed a hand lightly over her upper arm, and watched as Goosebumps blanched across her skin. She turned around and looked back down at her bed, messed by sleep, and she pictured Brittany in her own bed, still asleep, with her hair spread over her pillow in infinite tangles and wisps and her breathing coming in soft, even puffs.

There had been a few moments the night before where Santana had thought Brittany had gone to sleep. She'd been so still and eased- her arms curling Santana close, her chin rested on the top of Santana's head. And Santana had lain amidst the warmth and the bliss and she'd tried to even her breathing and slow her pounding heart but her whole body had been left coursing from Brittany's touches.

When they had heard the matron's keys in the hallway, they had disentangled- quiet and efficient, and Santana had left Brittany stretched out in bed with her tank top riding up, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from kissing. She'd slipped out of Brittany's door and pretended she was on her way back from the bathroom- muttering a bumbled 'night' to the Miss Pillsbury as they crossed paths.

Santana had gone to beck to her own bed feeling every inch of her skin alive and buzzing, and in the morning light that buzzing was still there- dimmed slightly by sleep, but still coursing insistently through her. She turned back to the mirror and took a breath, raking her fingers through her hair and then left it and slipped into the quiet, sleep coated hallway towards Brittany's room.

Guessing that Brittany would still be asleep, Santana skipped knocking and eased Brittany's door open a crack.

Brittany's curtain was thrown back, the room was bathed in crisp, unflinching sunlight and the city outside was humming through her open window. Her bed was neatly made- every soft toy stacked close together against her pillow. Her school books, which were usually kept in a neat stack on one side of her desk were gone and the space where her laptop usually sat was empty.

Santana took this all in and felt her heart sink. Brittany had gone home for the weekend, without so much as a goodbye. There had been time the night before to mention it, so why hadn't she? The thought made Santana flush with embarrassment. Brittany shouldn't have to tell her where she was going. She didn't owe Santana anything. But that didn't change the fact that Santana felt somehow betrayed. She turned away from Brittany's room abruptly and headed back to her own. But she got there she was too restless and agitated to sleep. She sat on her bed, her stomach churning, staring at the floorboards between her she got up, dressed herself in sweats and went to breakfast earlier than she'd ever done on the weekend. She wasn't remotely hungry, but she needed coffee to align her thoughts more evenly.

She was surprised to find Rachel and Tina sitting at one of the top tables. They were both dressed in running gear, and their cheeks were tinged pink. Santana made herself a coffee at the machine and sat down at the opposite end of their table.

"I didn't even know humans were capable of running on Saturday mornings. I thought it was physically impossible," she said, eyeing them.

"Me too," Tina laughed, "but Rachel made me."

"Well I didn't want to go alone in case I got kidnapped by some homeless man still drunk from the night before," Rachel said defensively, a hand covering her mouth which was full of toast.

Santana raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her coffee. Rachel hastened to swallow.

"Did you have fun last night Santana?"

Not trusting herself to answer, Santana nodded.

Rachel leaned forwards, her eyebrows raised and then said in a loud whisper, "a little birdy told me that someone got some action last night."

Santana felt her mouthful of coffee shoot down her throat far too quickly for her to handle. She put down her mug and began spluttering as it scalded its way down. Rachel made a move to come and pat her on the back but Santana shook her head, giving one last hard cough for good measure and then gulped air down to calm herself. She had to wipe her eyes too- which had begun to leak.

"Went down the wrong way," she gasped. "I'm okay."

Rachel studied her carefully for a moment and then nodded. "Well, as I was saying, you'll never guess who got lucky last night."

"Who?" Santana asked. She tried to keep her voice casual but it came out harsh and rasped from the coughing.

"Your date!" Rachel exclaimed, clapping her hands with happiness and beaming from Santana to Tina and back again.

"My…" Santana drew a blank. "My date?"

"Kurt?" Tina prompted.

"Kurt? Oh. Oh!" Santana lifted her voice in surprise, "with Peter Pan boy?"

"Mmhmm," Rachel nodded vigorously, her lips pressed into a smile and her eyes shining. "Blaine."

"Wow," Santana muttered, nodding, "cool."

"I got a text late last night saying that they'd ended up talking on the bus ride home and then Blaine had come to visit him after lights out and well…" Rachel pursed her lips again and grinned.

"I hope he doesn't decide to tell any of the guys though," Tina said, chewing thoughtfully on her toast.

Santana and Rachel turned to look at her.

"Why not?" Rachel asked.

Tina swallowed. "Well I just can't see the boys being okay with it. I know I won't be the one to tell Mike, that's for sure."

Rachel bristled. "If I told Finn I'm sure he'd be fine with it."

"Would he though?" Tina asked, "I mean, don't get me wrong Rachel, all the guys are really accepting of Kurt. But like, how would you feel knowing two of your friends were going at it a couple of rooms down? When we're so confined like this it makes it worse, don't you think?"

Rachel paused to consider, while Santana sat still as a stone, trying to keep her features impassive. All she could think of was Brittany's skin on hers. Brittany's breath scattering over her face. Brittany inside her. At the time it hadn't even occurred to Santana that they were surrounded by their sleeping friends; Brittany had drawn all her focus.

Santana felt like she was radiating heat, and she dropped her eyes to the table top, too afraid to see if the other's had noticed. But Rachel, it seemed, was still too busy being offended.

"It's not like they were kissing in the hallway or in public or anything," she snapped, looking at Tina. "They kept it to Kurt's room so as far as I see it it's fine."

"So you'd be fine if you knew that two of your friends had been hooking up in the room right next door to you?" Tina shot back.

"What?...I...no…" Rachel spluttered, then she turned. "Santana, you see my point, don't you?"

The lie came amidst a series of actions- Santana took a large gulp of her coffee, jerked her chair back, stood up and said, "I'm with Tina on this. It's weird."

She turned away from Rachel's hurt expression and tried to walk calmly as possible from the dining room. When she got back to the dorm she sank on her bed, put her head in her hands and took several deep, shaky breaths. She didn't know how to feel about anything and Brittany being gone so suddenly created a black hole of confusion and doubt. Their last few moments before the night matron came down the dorm had seemed so calm and right but now Santana just felt hollow and slightly sick thinking about it.

If Brittany had wanted to talk to her wouldn't she have woken Santana up? Or left a note? Anything just so that Santana wasn't hanging in limbo for the whole weekend. Santana retrieved her phone from under her pillow but there were no messages. She fought the impulse to treat it violently and threw it back against her blankets. She looked hopelessly around her room and then flopped back on her bed, throwing an arm over her eyes and glaring at it. After a while she heard voices in the hallway and then her door was clanked open. Still glaring, Santana did not remove her arm to see who it was, waiting for them to speak instead. But she felt the end of her bed sink beofe she heard any voices, and she pulled her arms away and sat up, fleetingly imagining that Brittany had come back. But it was Mercedes, doe eyed with sleep and still dressed in her pyjamas. Santana frowned at her.

"Uh. Hi?"

"Rachel just invited herself to come with Sugar, Amy and I to town today," Mercedes huffed, digging the end of Santana's bed up so that she could wiggle under the covers.

"And that's my problem how?" Santana asked gruffly. Mercedes blinked at her.

"You can't expect me to go with them on my own."

"Yes I can, and I am."

Mercedes looked highly offended. "Everyone knows Amy and Sugar get all annoying when they're together. And I'm _not _being best friends with Rachel for the day. Plus, everyone else has gone home so I'm willing to take grumpy Santana over spending a day alone with them. Please?"

Santana eyed her. Then she said carefully, "ask Brittany, she'd go."

Mercedes shook her head. "She's gone home too! She left like really early this morning. I'm surprised you didn't get woken up by Rachel confronting her thinking she was an intruder."

"No," Santana said softly, "I didn't wake up."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Well I'm the one that should be grumpy then because it was right outside my door at like 6 in the morning."

"Why'd she leave so early?" Santana asked, trying to keep her voice casual once more.

"Cheerios practice," Mercedes said. "Her and Quinn and Emma all went early and Amy was the only one who came back here for the weekend."

"Oh." Santana nodded, her mind racing. It made sense, but it didn't take the sting away.

"Soo…" Mercedes raised her eyes, prompting Santana. "You'll come?"

Santana hesitated, her mind going to the History essay that she had due the next week. But she knew that it was probably no use trying to get it done when she felt like this- all highly strung and pitched like a storm. Fresh air would do her good. Distraction would do her good.

* * *

><p>They decided to set off for town around 11 o'clock- which gave them, by the rules of the boarding house- until 3 o'clock to be out. When it was nearly time to leave, Santana threw on jeans and a hoodie- and pulled her hair up in a pony tail- hardly motivated to look good.<p>

When Sugar came to tell her they were leaving she took one look at Santana and shook her head, clucking her tongue.

"You look _homeless, _Santana. You can't let yourself go completely just because you don't have a boyfriend. In fact, that should be _more _incentive to look good." She opened Santana's closet and stood back, her finger over her chin, calculating potential outfits. Santana looked down at herself, about to protest indignantly, when she noticed a stain across the front lettering of the sweater. She sighed and tugged it off just as Sugar unhooked a dress and a blazer from their hangers and held them out.

"Put these on and fix…. that," she gestured vaguely to Santana's face, "and then meet us in the foyer. We'll sign you out."

Santana rolled her eyes and tugged at the button on her jeans as Sugar slid her door closed.

When she was dressed and had put on makeup, she met the others in the foyer and even earned an approving nod from Sugar.

"Hot. And far _less_ homeless," she said, grinning.

"Let's go everyone!" Rachel called, clapping her hands, rubbing them together and then gesturing to the door. Mercedes sidled up to Santana as they neared it and hooked their arms together.

"Why am I regretting this already?" She muttered.

They got through the first few hours of shopping without much of a hitch, in spite of Mercedes reservations. Santana brought herself some new shoes, while Sugar and Amy got matching Hello Kitty USB sticks. Rachel had scoffed at them, but then promptly spent half her weekly allowance on a pair of star shaped earrings. It was with great difficulty that Santana held back the opinion that they were the ugliest things wrought into sterling silver that she had ever seen. But she had lost it when the shop assistant had asked Rachel if she wanted the earrings gift wrapped- and then showed her the special kids wrapping paper. Rachel had left the shop in sullen silence, throwing haughty looks over her shoulder as Santana struggled to keep her laughter under control.

After the earrings incident, Rachel's mood took on a grumpy edge, and soon it became apparent that she and Mercedes had decidedly different ideas about where they were going to go next. They ended up loitering near the broken escalators, with Rachel prompting them to climb up three floors to the body lotion shop and Mercedes standing with her arms crossed and her face stony.

"I'm hungry," she said flatly.

Rachel huffed a sigh. "It'll take like ten minutes, Mercedes. Ten minutes, _tops." _

"I'm hungry," Mercedes repeated in the same dull voice. Beside Santana, Amy shifted uneasily.

"You should have had breakfast to keep you sustained until one o'clock, when we _agreed_ we'd get lunch."

"Rachel, you wouldn't let us get breakfast!" Mercedes snapped. "You said we had to leave and had no time!"

"Well you should have gotten up…"

"No, Rachel," Mercedes held up a hand. "Just no."

"You just don't want to walk up the stairs," Rachel said accusingly.

"No," Mercedes said, her voice rising, "I just don't want to have to always do what _you _want to do."

"Sure," Rachel snorted in disbelief.

Up until then, Santana had only been half engaged in the argument, preferring to wander away to the nearest window display and act like she had no idea who they were. But the sight of Mercedes face, which had opened out into plain agitation, Santana veereed towards them, about to explain that she and Mercedes could get lunch and Amy and Sugar could accompany Rachel up the broken escalators to the lotion shop. She was interrupted, however, by Sugar, who began jabbing her finger excitedly in the opposite direction.

"Elevators! We'll just use the elevators and then be done super quick with the lotion and can get lunch."

Santana looked with the others over at Mercedes, gauging her reaction. She had her eyes narrowed, but gave in and huffed, walking stiffly away from them to the elevators without saying a word. The others, with Rachel half skipping in victory, followed behind her.

The elevator doors opened as soon as Rachel pressed the button, and she shot a look of triumph over her shoulder at the rest of them before stepping inside. Santana ended up closest to the panel of numbers and she hit 'three', illuminating the number in red. The elevator whirred to life.

"The reason I refused, Rachel," Mercedes began in a dignified voice as the doors slid shut, "is that I refuse to believe that one person needs 6 different skin care products for different parts of their body."

"I believe it would be the fifth time I've tried to explain their different uses," Rachel snapped, her arms crossed and her gaze directed resolutely at the metal doors in front of them.

"Yeah, and they're all stupid uses. I just don't get…"

"Hey!" Sugar raised her voice dreamily, in an obvious attempt to abate the argument. "Do you think they'll have those really pretty candles? They're like…gourmet."

Amy gasped. "Yes! And they have glass cases and a ribbon around them."

"Uhuh," Sugar nodded seriously. "They're all hand made in like…Italy or somewhere."

"Maybe I should get one for my room," Amy said, her eyes bright.

"Oh come _on,_" Rachel scoffed, "We're not allowed flames in our rooms, you _have _to know that. Am I seriously the only one who has read the rule booklet?"

"Yes," Santana, Mercedes, Sugar and Amy said together. Rachel pressed her lips against one another and shook her head disapprovingly, but thankfully, didn't press the point.

Santana watched the panel above their heads as the floors flashed past. It was on floor two, but just as the number blinked away to be replaced by a three, the little red dots that made up the didgets scattered haphazardly across the screen and then died away. Santana only had a second to process this before the elevator shuddered and stopped, so that all they could hear was a echoey clanking in the shaft above them.

"Woah," Sugar raised her voice in panic. "Woah guys what's…."

"The elevator's stuck," Amy said in panic, pushing past Rachel to the front and trying to prise the doors open.

"Don't," Santana said, batting her hands away, "that won't do anything."

Sugar was fanning her face, breathing rapidly. "Guys….guys…what do we do?"

While Rachel said she would try and call someone, Santana looked at the panel of numbers in front of her and saw that the three button she had pressed earlier was no longer lit up red. Knowing deep down that it wouldn't work, she jabbed it. The button stayed grey.

"Try the button with the bell on it," Rachel said, relatively calmly. "I have no signal. Everyone check their phones."

Santana pressed the bell button three times, and heard a faint dinging sound somewhere far above them. They all lifted their heads.

"I can't believe this," Mercedes said. "I actually cannot believe I am going to die from lack of oxygen all because someone needs special cream to moisturise their creepily cracked heels!"

"Hey!" Rachel snapped her head down at Mercedes, "my Dads took me to doctor because of that and it's an actual condition."

"We should have known this would happen," Amy said darkly, tugging once more at the door before sinking onto the floor. "The escalators weren't working. It was an omen."

"But what if…" Sugar sank to the floor too, her eyes wide, "what if there's been like a zombie apocalypse?" Then she gasped and shoved her hand in her handbag, withdrawing her phone. "I _have _to text Britt and tell her to check for us. She totally thinks its gonna happen someday."

Santana sunk to the floor, watching numbly as Sugar tapped her bringht pink nails against the screen of her phone. Mercedes sunk down beside Santana, breathing heavily.

"I can't believe this," she kept repeating. "This cannot be happening."

"Is there a number to call?" Rachel was the only one still standing, and she leant over to the number panel, squashing Santana up against the side of the elevator.

"Get. Off." Santana pushed her and Rachel sat down with a huff.

"We need to stay calm," Rachel said. "Ring the alarm bell again."

"Three is enough. I'm pretty sure they'll realize one of their elevators isn't working," Santana reasoned. Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Sugar let out a squeal of laughter that made them all jump and look around.

"Brittany just googled and she says there's been a city wide power outage where we are and she's certain we're under zombie attack."

"So…We just wait till the power comes back on?" Amy glanced anxiously around and then up at the ceiling. "How far away do you think we are from the third floor? We could like… climb our way up onto the top of the elevator and get to the next…"

"No." Mercedes said flatly.

"It's hot," Rachel said suddenly, clutching at her sweater and then ripping it over her head. "Is anyone else hot?"

"Are we using up all the air?" Amy clamped a hand to her mouth.

Santana huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you guys are pathetic. My Tio's apartment building elevator always broke down. One time, when I was nine, my cousin and I were there for like two hours," She shrugged. "We just have to wait. Malls are way more public than apartment buildings so I'm sure they'll be figuring it out."

"Jesus…What did you guys do for _two hours_?" Amy asked.

"We played truth or dare…and then…the word association game," Santana said, smiling faintly as she recalled it. "We didn't actually think it was such a big deal at the time. But then again…We weren't trapped with her," she jerked her head to Rachel who stuck out her tongue.

"Truth or dare!" Sugar said, looking up from her phone. "Britt wants to play too!"

Santana felt a prickle of jealousy, and she clenched her jaw as the others around her agreed to Sugar's suggestion.

"I'll go first," Mercedes said. "Rachel, I dare you to climb out of the elevator and get help."

Rachel shot her a scathing look. "You didn't ask me if I wanted truth or dare."

Mercedes sighed theatrically. "Fine. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Rachel said at once.

"Have you seen and or touched Finn's penis?" Mercedes asked quick as a flash. Santana screwed her face up at the thought of it, and she wasn't alone. Amy mimed vomiting and Sugar shuddered violently.

Rachel was bright red and trying to keep up her composure. "Well I… I mean at Lauren's party…"

"Woah!" Mercedes held up a hand. "Actually I've decided that is something I don't wanna know."

Rachel snapped her mouth shut gratefully and then, when she'd recovered she eyed the group. "My turn… Truth or dare, Sugar."

Sugar was tapping on the screen of her phone and took a moment to look up. Santana tried to subtly crane her head to see if she was texting Brittany, but the screen was angled too far away. It turned out she didn't need to see, because Sugar looked up and said "Brittany wants a turn."

"She's not in the elevator," Rachel said shortly. "So, Sugar, truth or dare?"

Sugar looked up and stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, rolling her eyes around the elevator for inspiration. She settled, after a moment, for truth.

"Okay…uh…." Rachel looked to the others, and Amy spoke up, giggling.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

Santana knew the question wasn't directed at her, but by the way her face burned and her stomach dropped, it might as well have been. She looked down at her lap, not wanting to see Sugar's reaction to the question, and feeling the elevator walls were clutching them all more tightly together.

The sound of Sugar's laughter filled the air, and then everyone was talking over one another, encouraging her to answer. Santana looked up to see Sugar pursing her lips, her eyes shining from all the attention. Then she slapped her hands hard up to her face and nodded.

Amy's shriek was so loud that Santana jumped. Mercedes slapped her knees, cackling loudly.

"I knew you would have!" Rachel called, pointing triumphantly at Sugar. "Out of all of us I knew you'd be the one to do it."

"What was it like?" Amy asked, wide eyed. Sugar giggled and drew her hands away from her face, shrugging coyly. "It was okay. Boys taste better though."

Everyone dissolved into giggles once more and Santana forced herself to follow along, though the laughter felt heavy in her throat. It was starting to get uncomfortably hot. She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand and reached up to hit the alarm bell button several more times.

"You okay Santana?" Rachel was looking at her in concern.

"Duh," Santana said, dropping her hand, "I just really don't want to hear anything more about Finn's penis or how likely it is that I will get hit on by Sugar."

"Ha, ha," Sugar said sarcastically. "It was one time, but I don't roll that way so don't get your hopes up everyone. Whose turn is it now?"

"Amy's, truth or dare?" Mercedes asked.

"Truth," Amy said instantly.

"Oh come on," Mercedes rolled her eyes, "Mix it up a little!"

"There is like nothing to dare someone when we're stuck in an elevator," Amy reasoned. "And I am _not _making out with any one of you."

Santana felt her breath hitch a little, but she looked expectantly at Mercedes as she thought of a question.

"Okay…." She said slowly, "are you…are you keeping a secret for anyone at the moment?"

"Oooooooooo," Sugar said, "good question."

Amy looked flustered with everyone's eyes on her, and Santana could see a tinge of red spreading across her cheeks and along her neck. "A few," she said, and laughed lightly.

Mercedes tilted her head. "Like what?"

"They wouldn't be secrets if I told you."

"She has a point," Sugar said airily.

"Well we'll just ask you on your next turn so you might as well tell us," Mercedes said. She was leaning forwards, pressing up into Santana in anticipation and it was making the heat worse. Santana pulled off her blazer and pushed Mercedes back down into the corner.

"And I thought _Berry_ would be the one that was annoying in tiny spaces," She said. Mercedes rolled her eyes and ignored her, directing her gaze once again at Amy.

"I think…" she said slowly, "that I know the secret."

Amy shook her head.

"No one does."

"Aw come on," Sugar tugged on Amy's arm. "We're stuck and probably going to be killed when we get out anyway so make our last moments juicy with gossip!"

"It's about someone we all know, isn't it?" Mercedes persisted, her eyes fixed on Amy.

Santana could see Amy cracking under the pressure. She shifted back and forth on the floor and dropped her eyes.

"It's not some dumb secret. It's real and," She shrugged, "I don't know if I can tell you guys coz…"

"Everyone is going to know some time. I already figured it out by just being opposite her room."

Santana was about to interrupt them and tell them to start making sense when the knowledge of who lived opposite Mercedes hit her. Rachel caught on at the same time.

"Quinn," she said, ducking her head down to catch Amy's gaze. "It's about Quinn."

Amy looked up, her lips pressed together, and nodded. "You can't tell anyone," she looked at each one of them in turn. "Quinn would be so mad."

"What's going on?" Santana asked, feeling an odd sort of panic. Mercedes turned to look at her.

"Quinn thinks she could be pregnant."

Santana registered Amy's solemn nod and Rachel's theatrical gasp as though they were muffled by a wall. She blinked around the interior of the elevator, trying to latch onto something that helped her process the fact that she was stuck in a elevator with the words she'd just heard taking up all the oxygen. She fixed her eyes on the blank number panel, and tried to ignore the conversation continuing around her.

"_How long has she known?"_

"_Is she sure?" _

"_Is it Pucks?"_

"_Will she keep it?" _

Santana stared at the number panel for so long that it took her a moment to realise she was actually staring at an illuminated number 2, and just as she did, the elevator hummed to life again, gave one judder and began to ascend.

Everyone let out hoarse cheers, and stood up in a jumble of limbs and shopping bags. Santana leant heavily against the wall, light headed.

Mercedes ducked her head close, her eyes searching Santana's.

"You okay?"

Santana nodded, shrugged and then the elevator doors opened, revealing the bright light of the outside world, a rush of cool air, and several strained looking maintenance men.

* * *

><p>Santana's sat on her bed with her phone after dinner, paused over Quinn's number. She'd gone to call it three times already, but she'd cut off each one before it could connect. She didn't know what she should say, or what she wanted to say. Every suggestion she muttered to herself seemed flat- full of false reassurance or faked anger. Nothing fit right for what she felt. She gave up, put her phone on her window sill and dropped her head in her hands, easing some of the pressure off her neck. In the warm darkness of her palms, Santana pressed her lips up against her own skin and wondered when everything was supposed to slow down and let her breathe.<p>

Inadvertently, her thoughts went to Puck, and if he knew. She imagined he would be numbed by the news, just sit quietly, blinking tears. He was so loud normally, so boasting and cheeky but she imagined the news would stop him in his tracks. Suck all the life out of him.

Santana didn't even know how she felt about him. She felt sorry for him, now, that was for sure, but before that, when she knew he'd cheated on her, when she knew he'd lied, she had felt hardly anything. If she was really honest with herself, the pity she felt for him now was the strongest emotion she'd had connected to him in a long time. She felt so removed from him now. And Quinn.

Santana had called herself Quinn's best friend for a long time, but the words held together less like marks of closeness and more as a mask to hide the cracks.

A muffled banging of doors came from down the hall and Santana heard Rachel, Mercedes, Sugar and Emma making their way towards her room.

"We're going to watch a DVD in the Fruit room with some eleventh graders if you want to come!" Mercedes called.

"No thanks!" Santana replied flatly, laying backwards down on her bed. There were murmurings and then Rachel called out, "fine, suit yourself, but it's Rent!"

"Cool," Santana said unenthusiastically. Rachel's frustrated gush of breath was audible through her door, and Santana half smiled as she heard them continued down the hall.

When their noises had faded, Santana sat up and went to her desk, where her computer sat open. A blank word document that was supposed to be her history essay was lit brightly like an accusation. Santana turned to her textbook and opened it to a page she'd ear marked in class a few days earlier.

"Hitler and the Axis of Evil," she read in a tone of mock enthusiasm. The sound of her voice echoing alone in the dorm made her feel stupid, and she laughed lightly, sinking her head down until her forehead pressed against the page.

Her eye was right up close to a black and white photograph of Hilter and the Italian dictator, Mussolini, standing saluting in their uniforms. Santana liked history most of the time- it made her feel sort of calm, knowing that there were so many details she could immerse herself in. But then there were the times, like now, when it all weighed heavily against her and the thought of shifting through all the information to get to the meaning was exhausting. Tired of eye-balling Hitler's moustache, Santana closed her eyes and let her muscles relax into pre-sleep numbness.

Sounds in the hall way pulled Santana from her sleep- banging sounds, the clinking of zips, the swish of movement. She sat up in her chair and stretched, locating the time on the screen of her laptop. She'd slept for just over twenty minutes. People said it was the perfect length for a power nap, but Santana felt like all her senses were powered down and her thoughts were hardly coherent. She pushed back her chair and returned to her bed, then, deciding she was in it for the long haul, she got up, turned off her desk light so that her room was darkened. She unbuttoned her jeans, shimming them down to her ankles, stepping out of them and kicking them across her floor to the corner by her desk. Then she burrowed back under her covers in her sweater and underwear, shuffling right up against the wall and tugging her pillow over her head.

The noises that had woken her up had faded, but she heard the distinct clatter of a door up the hall being opened. Santana opened her eyes and stared at the wall right in front of her face. Mercedes, Sugar, Rachel and Amy were the only ones staying in and all their rooms were down the opposite end of the hall. The only rooms which were further past Santana's were Lauren's and Brittany's.

There was more movement, footsteps and then a knocking on Santana's door. Santana lifted her head up and turned around in bed, her mind racing.

"Uh, yeah it's open!" She called.

Her door opened and Santana kept her face impassive in the seconds after she registered Brittany's face.

Santana recalled suddenly that it took 15 muscles to smile. She wondered how many it took to feel an emotion. She wondered how hard her body was working to accommodate the one she was experiencing- this sort of panicked hope that felt like it was expanding in her chest. Prising apart her ribs.

Brittany was backlit by the hall way light and it shone stark and unromantic. But it was Brittany's face and her eyes were shining, her hair was loose and Santana felt her heart begin to quicken. Brittany took a step forwards, right up to the threshold of Santana's room and then stopped.

"Are you a zombie?" She whispered.

Santana shook her head, unwilling to smile. Brittany's own small smile faltered and she ducked her head in concern.

"Are you sick? Coz it's only like eight thirty, how come you're in bed?"

"I'm just tired."

"Okay." The confident, cheeriness in Brittany's voice wavered. Santana felt a twinge of guilt, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize.

Brittany stepped passed the door into Santana's room and lowered herself slowly onto the end of Santana's bed.

"Did you…did you get out of the elevator okay?" Brittany's voice upturned oddly at the end of the question, almost like a plea.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Brittany frowned slightly, looked down at her lap and nodded. Santana looked at Brittany's face and took in the way the light struck upon her features so that the shadow of her nose was cast across her left cheek and one eyebrow was lit up golden.

"Sugar told me about Quinn. How Amy was truthed into telling the secret."

"Yep," Santana said.

"I was supposed to get the bus home tomorrow but I got an earlier one."

The abrupt change in topic threw Santana off momentarily. "Because of Quinn?" She asked, confused.

"What? No I just," Brittany shrugged and met Santana's eyes, "I had a funny feeling. And I need to know… Are we… are we still friends?"

It reminded Santana of a question you'd ask at elementary school and it was so childish that Santana wrestled briefly with a feeling of absurdity.

Santana let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sure we are."

She focused on the thumbtack ridden wall beside her. They were catching the light with their flat, brass heads – giving off the air of some sort of close up constellation of stars.

"Okay," Brittany said slowly. "I just wondered because I've never… I know what happened isn't what friends usually do."

Santana didn't reply. She concentrated on the thumbtacks, mentally organizing them into shapes. When she was a kid, Santana had had a skylight in her old bedroom and at night she had laid awake, mapping out constellations she knew, or making up ones of her own. She had considered it a good profession- constellation naming, but had been disappointed when her mother had explained that the ancient people had been the ones to find them, and named them thousands of years ago.

In hindsight, Santana was able to see the sense in this; those people with all their Gods and their beautiful words seemed to be the only ones fit to name the stars. And she didn't think anyone could come up in her world could come up with names like Altair, Cassiopeia, The Pleiades.

Santana remembered her nighttime ritual, and the way she used to chant the names of the constellations in her head- importing them from her special 'Explore the Universe' book that she'd been given by someone for her birthday. Santana could recall its front cover- an embossed picture of the earth- as round and blue as a balloon. She used think about how funny it was that everyone referred to the present as being 'new' and 'modern' when the earth was so old, and getting far older.

"It's not something friends do, I don't think." Brittany had again ventured into their silence again.

"So, we're not friends then." Santana said. Her tone had left no room for an answer, but she turned her eyes away from the wall to see Brittany react. Brittany blinked rapidly several times and shook her head, her face pinched in distress.

"I don't feel like _just_ your friend."

Again, Santana didn't reply. The air in between them thickened and strung the seconds going by up on tightropes. Brittany reached one arm out across the room and clasped the edge of the door, rattling it sideways. Santana watched the light shift across Brittany's face and then disappear completely as the door bumped against its cradle and Brittany clicked the lock into place.

They were in the dark together and it made them both braver. Brittany shifted up the bed and Santana shifted down and they met in the middle- putting their arms around one another.

Santana breathed in Brittany's smell, felt the shift of her shoulder blades underneath her palms and wanted to stay that way forever. But then Brittany pulled away slightly angling her face down for a kiss and Santana felt her whole body strike up one solid beat of want. She caught Brittany's lips with hers and didn't care how she kissed, so long as she tasted Brittany, so long as that when she let her body fall backward against the bed, Brittany would follow.

Santana's head hit the pillow, with Brittany's hand behind it, and her weight pressing against her. Santana opened her mouth and took Brittany in, jarring her body upwards, needing to be as close as possible. Needing more, and not finding enough.

Brittany groaned mid kiss as Santana reached her tongue deeper, and they broke the kiss momentarily, panting into one another's faces.

"Not friends," Brittany murmured.

Santana shook her head, but she wasn't sure if Brittany had noticed, because they were kissing again.


	12. In The Morning

**Hi! Update :) **Any questions, don't hesitate to visit my Tumblr- lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr ask****

**Ch 11: In The Morning**

_Puck's hands were everywhere at once- tugging her clothes, clutching at her skin, making her feel as though it was no longer her own. Her tongue lashed heavily into her mouth- once, twice and then broke away as they fell backwards on his cousin's couch. _

_When he drew his mouth away, Santana could taste him- taste his spit, taste his breath. It surprised her, because she'd been kissing him for months- but she'd never been so conscious of it before. She was balanced on him, her hands resting on his shoulders- the tight sinews of muscle, the ridge his neck. And it felt foreign too. _

_Santana realised she felt sick, and she made to hop off, but his hands were anchored around her thighs, holding her still. His eyebrows hitched together slightly. _

"_Do you want to stop? We can…if you want." _

_She shook her head before she really registered what she was doing. Puck nodded slowly and then, in a complete contrast to that slowness, curled his arms around her back, sat up against her and then stood and turned her around, lowering her down on her back against the couch. _

_He kissed her again, rocking his hips up against hers. Santana could hardly breathe, she could hardly think. And that was what she needed, she reasoned. She needed not to think of anything. She needed not to think of how Brittany had pressed her up against Lauren's garage. How she'd taken Santana's breath and Santana couldn't have cared less. _

_But she had to breathe now, lying under Puck. She had to otherwise she was sure she was going to pass out. _

_She managed to get her hands against his shoulders again, and, recognising her resistance, Puck pulled away, looking down at her. _

"_I just needed to…sorry…" She gasped for air, feeling the mounting pressure of tears. She stilled her throat, clenched her jaw, and tried her best not to let it show on her face, because Puck's eyes were travelling slowly over it. _

"_You're beautiful, Santana," he breathed. _

_She felt the tears edge right up her throat and it became so much harder to forget. She tugged him back down, kissed him harder. She snuck an arm down between their bodies and undid the clasp on his uniform shorts. _

Santana woke up with a start and a loud, harsh beeping right by her ear. She sat up, yanking back her covers, trying to calm her breathing.

Her phone was lit up and beeping with an alarm bell on the screen. Santana silenced it and checked the time. It was half past eleven- timed just after the matron's first hallway check. Santana knew that down the hall, Brittany would be hearing a similar tone in her own room.

Santana cast her phone aside and stood up, making her way as fast as she could across her room and out away from the remnants from the dream.

It was dark in Brittany's room- the air heavy with sleep and the faint, sweet smell of Brittany's shower gel. Santana could see the outline of Brittany sitting up in bed, and she couldn't help but smile.

Santana took two steps forwards until a swift, sharp pain on her shin, had her bent over, clamping her hands over top of it, blinking through the tears in her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered, "_fuck, _that hurt."

Brittany had sat up fully in bed and bent over, peering through the darkness to where Santana stood by her door.

"You okay?" She whispered.

"You left the drawer under your bed open," Santana muttered, rubbing her shin and then easing the drawer closed with her foot.

Brittany grimaced. "Sorry."

"Sokay, move over though."

Santana hobbled to the side of the bed and slid down in the space that Brittany had just created for her. Then she sunk lower, wiggling down until she was lying on her side. The bed was warm and soft and smelt good; some sort of floral scent that was light and comforting. Santana shifted closer, humming in content as she slipped an arm around Brittany's waist and tugged their bodies together. She propped herself up on one elbow and put a hand through her own hair to hold it off Brittany's face as she bent to her. She caught Brittany's lips on hers once, twice, and then on the third time she surged the heat of her tongue into Brittany's mouth and drew a moan out from her throat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Santana had visited Brittany after lights out. The first few she'd been encouraged by a text, but by Thursday they'd agreed to set their alarms for just after the matron left. And as the nights became consecutive, they developed a timid sort of rhythm.

Santana could feel herself quaking up against Brittany as their kiss deepened, because she knew what came next.

And, sure enough, Brittany surged harder against her, running her hands up Santana's back- slipping her top up. Santana tucked the bulk of it under her chin and watched, panting, as Brittany raised her lips and took one of Santana's nipples gently into her mouth.

It was a feeling that Santana had never guessed in a million years that she'd enjoy. But as soon as the heat of Brittany's mouth was surrounding them, and the jerk of her lips stiffened them to points, Santana felt her whole body spark with arousal. Brittany sucked at her nipple and Santana felt the tug between her legs. Brittany passed her tongue over the tip and Santana juddered forwards. Brittany had been doing that every night, until Santana's arms propping herself up were trembling and she had to try extremely hard to stifle her moans. The fourth night was no different. No, the fourth night was _better,_ because Santana had whittled a whole day away at school thinking about it, imagining it just the way it was happening.

"Oh, fuck." Santana panted.

Hearing Santana's moan, Brittany spread her palms across Santana's ribs, jerked her closer and edged her teeth, ever so slightly down against the swollen tip of her nipple.

Santana felt someone had vacuumed her lungs shut, and she let out another moan, almost blind with pleasure. Brittany drew her mouth away and looked up at her, giggling slightly.

"You okay?"

"More than okay," Santana nodded. "Keeping going."

But Brittany didn't. Instead she stared at Santana, roaming her eyes around her face slowly- until Santana felt awkward and self-conscious.

"What?" She asked, reaching up to check that her hair wasn't horribly out of place. Brittany just blinked slowly and smiled.

"You're really beautiful."

Santana went cold so swiftly and violently that goose bumps spread all across her skin. And seeing the sincerity only brought back that feeling that she'd had out by Lauren's garage, when she'd tasted Brittany's lip gloss and had to face the irrevocable fact that Brittany was a girl. But it was stronger now, and far more urgent.

"You don't need to do that," she said quickly

"Do what?" Brittany's face contracted in confusion.

"Be all…" Santana searched for the words, "...flattering. I don't...I don't need it, and it's not like you're a guy. So, you don't have to. It's okay."

Brittany's confusion turned to a frown. "What do you mean?"

Santana shook her head. "It doesn't matter, forget it."

But Brittany's frown didn't abate. Instead, it deepened and then she said, "I was just saying you were beautiful. Why can't I say that if I'm a girl?"

Impatience was nipping at Santana's heels, but she willed herself not to snap, and shifted her weight more comfortably. "It's just not the same. And I don't need you to say it to get me to do…to do this."

"That wasn't why I said it." Brittany's voice hardened.

"No," Santana shook her head, "no I know. You're not like that so you don't have to act that way."

"All I said was that you were…"

Santana sighed, notching her chin up off her tank so that it fell down and covered her breasts. Then she shifted off Brittany and sunk down on her side. They faced one another, Brittany's expression expectant.

"Look," Santana began, "I slept with Puck because I was confused and, and… just...my head was all over the place. And it sucked. It was awful, alright? Neither of us were that into it and it just happened. And he kept telling me over and over again that I was beautiful and honestly, it's what guys always say stuff. And it's like a broken record. You are the first...well…you're a girl. And you should just take it as a compliment that we're doing stuff and you don't have to say anything like that. You don't have to get me to like you or…or work harder or anything."

Brittany's frown hadn't eased. "I still don't... are you trying to say that because I'm a girl the rules don't apply to me?"

"Well," Santana searched for the words again, unable to shake off the feeling that she was digging herself a deeper and deeper hole, "it's just different. It doesn't matter so much."

"So…" There was a pause, and in horror, Santana realised Brittany was battling against emotion, "you don't like me in the same way you need to like boys to do it with them?"

"What?" Santana was struck in disbelief. "No," she softened her voice, "no of course I...well I like you, of course I do. Otherwise I don't think we'd be doing this."

Her fake laughter died at the look on Brittany's face.

"It's just…" She shrugged, "it's just different."

They lay for a moment in awkward silence, and the look on Brittany's face made Santana drop her eyes to the dark swirl of blankets between them.

"I think," Brittany said quietly, "I think I'm going to go to sleep."

"No," Santana shook her head. "I'm sorry, that was…" she laughed, "that was a dumb thing of me to say, wasn't it?"

Brittany shrugged. "The matron is coming soon anyway."

Brittany twisted against the blankets and turned around to face the wall, leaving Santana staring at the back of her head.

"What, so, you're going to sleep now?"

There was a swiping sound as Brittany nodded her head against the pillow.

Santana unfolded herself out of Brittany's blankets and stood up, linger for a moment beside the bed, hoping like hell that Brittany was going to turn around and change her mind.

But Brittany kept her back turned, her breathing deep and even. Eventually, Santana turned away, navigated around the still half open drawer and eased her way back into the hall.

* * *

><p>It's took Santana's head only a split second after she woke up the next morning to process what had happened the night before, and send a cordial thud of disappointment to the pit of her stomach.<p>

She carried that disappointment through breakfast that morning- when Brittany sat at the table with her ninth grade friends. Santana tried to follow the conversation around her with Brittany's back standing out glaringly in her peripheral vision. Everyone at Santana's table was talking about the sports day that was being hosted by Alexandra. It was a day which meant, for the general population of the school, several things. The first was that the Andrews' boys came down from up the hill to compete in their heats while everyone got to watch and then the Alexandra girls competed in their heats while the Andrews' boys watched. It also meant practically everyone got the day off school, because as long as you put your name down for an event (which ranged from egg balancing races to the 1200 meter brute of a race that only the crazy fit people entered into). On top of that, all the cultural groups from the two schools set up stalls around the perimeter of the tracks, so that everyone who brought cash could get lunch from a wide range of different ethnicities. The sport day before, Santana had frequented the Chinese group stand and had brought three of their amazing pork buns.

Throughout that morning leading up to the sports day, the boarding house was abuzz with excitement. Every second conversation that Santana heard drift past her window engaged in some form with how to make an athletic outfit look sexy or an investigation to sort out what Andrews' boys were in which races.

At ten thirty Rachel stood at the end of the dorm and hollered for everyone to come out of their rooms and assemble in the hallway.

When Santana emerged, her view was mostly blocked by Lauren but she was able to catch a glimpse of Brittany, sitting in between Sugar and Mercedes. She was looking up at Rachel, and didn't even notice Santana appear.

"So, is everyone ready? I just got a text from Finn, and we're going to meet him and the boys by the long jump pit."

"Same as last year? " Amy asked.

Rachel nodded. "Yes, and, just letting everyone know that…" She held up her phone and looked at the screen. "Artie isn't coming because he has para-athletics aand…"she scrolled her thumb down the screen. "There was one more person that couldn't make it but I can't seem to…"

"Puck," Quinn said flatly. Everyone, including Santana, looked down to her. "Puck can't make it. He got detention yesterday and was banned from sports day."

"Oh," Rachel said. "Oh well that's…that's…"

"It doesn't matter," Quinn shrugged. Santana noticed that Quinn had her arms folded over her stomach. In spite of herself, Santana stared. She wondered how far along Quinn was-but that would men trying to guess when it had happened, and Santana didn't think she could stomach that. She switched her eyes away and forced herself to concentrate on what Rachel was saying.

"Okay, well, it's just about time to go. So does everyone have their bags, sunblock, cash for the stalls and…oh!" She raised her voice as everyone gave up on her, moving away to their rooms to get their things. "Don't forget bottled water! It is so easy to get dehydrated out in the heat!"

Santana was stuck between relief about Puck's absence and annoyance about Brittany's aloofness. Throughout the past week, since she'd come back on the earlier bus the Saturday night before, their exchanges had been full to bursting with innuendo, small smiles, lingering eyes- small things that led up to the evenings. But Brittany avoided Santana all morning, acting like she hardly existed. When everyone met in the hallway again with their bags, and Rachel led them out into the stairwell, Brittany occupied a space far ahead of Santana, beside Sugar. Santana fell into place beside Emma, her eyes trained on Brittany's retreating back.

When they arrived at the scheduled meeting place, the boys were already there, waiting. They were all dressed the same and Santana was momentarily confused until she remembered that unlike Alexandra, Andrews' had a sports uniform- bright red shorts with navy blue zip up hoodies.

Sam and Mike, who were by far the most interested in Athletics, were leaning against the wall of the changing room, stretching, while Finn, Kurt, Blaine, Rory and some large black guy that Santana didn't recognize, were grouped around talking.

When he caught sight of them approaching over Kurt's shoulder, Finn's face lit up in a goofy grin and he loped over- reminding Santana of one of those huge dogs with the long tongues and too bigger paws. He enveloped Rachel in a hug and over her head beamed around at them all.

"Hey guys!"

The other boys had turned too and the black guy made a beeline for Mercedes, pulling her into a hug aswell.

She giggled and looked embarrassed as they disengaged. "Hi Shane."

"Hey baby."

Bemused, Santana looked from Mercedes and Shane over to Sam and saw him watching them too, his cheeks tinged red and sucking his bottom lip up into his mouth.

Since the whirlwind of Puck and Brittany, Santana had had barely any spare thoughts to anyone else's love life, but she was amazed she could have missed Mercedes and Sam breaking up. It made her stomach tighten, wondering why Mercedes hadn't felt like she could talk to Santana. Then it made her wonder how many other conversations she was missing out on- and why.

A squeal of laughter came from behind Santana, and she jumped, flicking her eyes up just in time to catch Brittany and Sugar fly past her, skipping up to Sam and Rory. Santana watched as Brittany threw herself into Sam's arms and pressed a firm kiss against his cheek. Any pity that Santana had held for Sam hardened in her chest when she saw the color in his cheeks rise, and his hands sink down to circle easily around her waist- lengthening the hug. After far too long, Brittany drew away and flicked her hair over one shoulder. As she did, she turned her face slightly in Santana's direction and their eyes met.

It was the first eye contact they haad shared since the previous night, and it sent what felt like a shockwave around Santana's body. Santana tried to change her expression to a frown or a smile- anything that would mask the raw jealousy on her face. But Santana felt frozen in place and almost as soon as their eyes had met, Brittany turned back to Sam, attempting a playful jab at his ribs.

Suddenly, the giant standing speakers that had been set up around the perimeter of the track crackled to life- And the muddled tones of Principal Figgins- the head of Andrews' Academy, sounded. Santana could just make him out, standing in the tent in the middle of the pitch, bent low over a broadcaster's microphone. The blaring red color of Coach Sylvester's track suit stood out beside him.

"Good morning children and welcome to the 7th annual Alexandra and Andrews' Academy Athletics Day. Now I know that this introductory speech is usually performed by the physical education leader of Alexandra…one Miss…sorry, yes…_Coach _Sue Sylvester. But due to issues such as profanity and a pending law suit involving the ex-mascot of Andrews' Academy, I have been chosen to take her place."

There was a smattering of laughter from the crowd around the pitch and Santana recalled with a half-smile, the incident last year where Coach Sue had tackled the Bruno the Bear mascot because she caught him trying to spike the tropical fruit punch that had been set up by the Hawaiian group. Principal Figgins carried on.

"I hope everyone is excited as I am for the day. And first up we have…. the junior girls hurdles followed by the junior boys hurdles. So could all the contestants please make their way to the starting line…."

While the first competitors lined up, Rachel began to organize their group. She fluttered a large tartan rug across the grass and instructed everyone about to sit that they were _not _to put their feet on it. For the most part, everyone ignored her. Mercedes and Mike began setting up her iPod to play through his portable speakers and Santana spread her towel a little away from the blanket, intending to sunbathe. She lay down, pulled up her t-shirt to expose her stomach and draped Kurt's Andrews' Athletics sweater over her face to block out the glare. She closed her eyes, attempting sleep, but the bouts of high pitched laughter and the general noise all around kept her locked on to consciousness.

Santana was getting more and more irritated when a violent shriek made her jump. She yanked the sweater off of her face and looked up. Sam and Brittany were engaged in another tickling fight, and Sam had hoisted Brittany up over one of his shoulders. She was laughing hysterically, still trying to tickle him. With Rory and Sugar laughing and following behind him, Sam walked away into the crowd with Brittany still squirming her hands up and down his sides. Santana scowled and lay back down but it was no use trying to sleep again, she was too annoyed. She stared up at the clouds and waited for the sounds of Sam bringing Brittany back again.

For the rest of the day, Sam, Brittany, Rory and Sugar seemed loudly and playfully joined at the hip. Anyone could see that for Sam, the bold effort at happiness was almost entirely due to the fact that Mercedes and Shane were cuddled up on their corner of Rachel's blanket, practically oblivious to anyone else. But every time he and Brittany went off together- on an adventure around the track, Santana felt all wound up and taut. She was constantly searching the crowd for when they were coming back again, and everything that happened while Brittany was away felt hollow and hardly worth her attention. But when they were back again, Santana felt just as annoyed- having to witness their interactions and Brittany's blatant point of ignoring Santana.

Santana reached her breaking point when Rachel, with her usual lack of tact, decided to comment on how cute she thought Sam and Brittany were together. Santana's stomach had sunk, and the pork bun she was trying to enjoy felt clogged and tasteless in her throat.

She stood abruptly, and left the conversation behind, not even brave enough to hear Brittany's reaction.

She walked aimlessly until she ended up at the back most block of toilets in the school. She stood outside of them, remembering all the times she, Liv and Quinn had used the broken window in the middle stall to sneak out into the abandoned office building car park on the other side. They'd gone there nearly every day after school to smoke amidst the clumps of leaves and scattered bits of rubbish.

To Santana's amusement, she found the middle stall's window still conveniently broken. Before she could really register what she was doing, she clattered the toilet lid down and climbed on top of it. With one hoist of effort, she reached up and gripped the pipe attached to the ceiling, holding herself up so that she could angle her legs out the window. She dropped down through it and met the ground with a sharp pang of ground shock rippling up her legs.

"Fuck," she breathed, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to ease the ache. The twang of cigarette smoke caught her attention and she looked up, locking eyes with Quinn who was sitting on a low concrete wall, smoke trailing rapidly from the cigarette in her hand.

Santana hadn't even noticed Quinn leave their group, so caught up had she been by Brittany.

Quinn's face was pale except for her cheeks which were blotched from the effort of crying.

"Oh," Santana said lamely, taking several steps back and forth. She was stuck between deciding whether to just turn around and climb back into the window without an excuse or carrying on with what she had been intending on doing- which she'd still been deciding in the first place.

"Hi," Quinn said in a resigned voice. She shifted over, leaving room on the wall for Santana.

Still not entirely sure she was making the right choice, Santana approached Quinn and lifted herself up onto the wall beside her.

Quinn took a long drag on the cigarette and held it out to Santana. She looked back and forth between it and Quinn and shook her head.

"Aren't you supposed to be…" Santana gestured at Quinn's stomach.

Quinn looked down at herself in confusion and then snorted.

"You heard about that then?"

Santana nodded. "And last time I checked I think some people were talking about how smoking is maybe kind of slightly bad for your unborn fetus."

"I'm not pregnant," Quinn interrupted- her voice flat. "I lied."

"You're not…oh…" Santana feel silent, directing her gaze at the leaves beneath their dangling feet.

"Stupid huh?"

"Yeah," Santana said truthfully, shooting a glance sideways.

Quinn pressed her lips together and nodded.

"It was just a stupid attempt to get certain people to pay attention."

"Puck…" Santana stated.

Quinn shrugged and took another drag on the cigarette. She let the smoke trail out of her mouth before she spoke.

"I just don't get why we all expect love to come with its own prescribed actions. You know, when people say "if you loved me you'd do that…or that,'" Quinn shook her head slightly and laughed. "We're setting ourselves up for failure really. I mean, we can't control when we fall in love, and we never see it coming so why do we expect people to act a certain way when they feel it?"

"I don't know why," Santana said, shaking her head.

"It's stupid," Quinn said emphatically, flicking the ash from her cigarette.

"It is."

They sat in silence for a few moments and then Quinn said, "You should hate me, you know."

Santana gave a weak laugh and shook her head.

"No," Quinn pressed. "I stole your boyfriend."

Quinn was looking sideways at Santana for a reaction, but Santana couldn't even compel herself to seem angry or upset. She just shrugged and then slipped the cigarette from between Quinn's fingers, taking a long drag.

The smoke sunk uncomfortably into her lungs, but she didn't cough. She breathed it out and remembered why she hated it.

She handed the cigarette back.

"I don't think we're supposed to get how love works. Or why people do the crap they do. I guess that's the point. That's what keeps us coming back. It's surprising. It keeps things interesting."

"Are we even supposed to get _why _we love people? Because I don't have the faintest clue why I might love a dude with a mo-hawk."

Santana fixed her eyes on a part of the concrete below them, and let the thoughts she'd been trying to keep at bay flood in.

Brittany with her bright eyes and the smile that she never seemed to quite have a handle on. That damn ducky sweater. The cat food aisle. The piles of assorted sandwiches she'd made for the trip to Mercedes place. Her face at close range, eyes fluttering in anticipation as Santana kissed her again and again round the side of Lauren's garage.

"I guess sometimes it takes a while to admit there are things we love about people," she said quietly, "but they're there."

* * *

><p>When they arrived back, everyone was sitting around playing cards. Rachel was by Finn's side- red faced and profusely annoyed that she'd been beaten by Mercedes.<p>

"You are cheating!" She exclaimed. "You…you looked at my cards!"

"_Rachel," _Mercedes said incredulously, "we're on opposite sides of the blanket! You're just a sore loser!"

Quinn and Santana exchanged suppressed grins as they neared the group, and Santana veered off towards her towel, but came up short when she saw Brittany sitting cross legged on it. She got to her feet as Santana neared and smiled sheepishly.

"Hi," Santana said.

"Hey."

"I was wondering…" They both began to speak at the same time, and broke away in laughter.

"You go," Brittany prompted.

"Well I was just wondering if you wanted to walk."

Brittany's smile widened so rapidly that Santana faltered. "What?" She asked.

"We were wondering the same thing," Brittany said.

"Oh," Santana said, attempting a smile, her stomach fluttering.

They walked around the perimeter of the track, weaving amongst the clusters of people sitting around. After a few minutes they passed the group of ninth grade boarding house girls who called out giggly chorus: "Hi Brittany! Hi Santana!"

Brittany laughed and waved good naturedly, but Santana was shocked.

"I've never spoken a word to them in my life. How do they…?"

"Word travels fast," Brittany said.

Santana shot her a sideways look. "What word?"

"My word," Brittany said casually, "about how cool you are."

Santana tried to make her voice stern, but her annoyance came out soft- all flattered and disbelieving.

"You talk to them about me?"

"Some stuff," Brittany said in a measured tone.

Santana stopped short, placing a hand on Brittany's arm to stop her as well.

They were down the end of the track, near the wire meshing fence and the cars swishing past with mid-afternoon urgency. The crowd of students had begun to converge closer to the track as the Twelfth grade 1200 meter heats were announced over the speakers. Santana knew she and Brittany would go unheard over all the excitement.

"Look, what you and I- What you and I have been doing Britt…it's-it's not the same as it is with boys. I wasn't wrong when I said that last night."

Brittany's eyes darted across Santana's face- measuring her words.

"But what I got wrong last night is _why_ it is different," Santana continued, drawing a shaky breath. "It's different because it's _you." _

They stared at one another until a group of oblivious, laughing girls walked in between them and broke off the moment. When they had past, Brittany stepped back up to Santana and they began to walk again.

They were silent while the gun cracked and while the cheering surged as the competitors began to run. Neither of them watched the race. Their silence felt more real to Santana than anything else that was going on around them.

"They used to be scared of you," Brittany said finally.

"Who, the ninth graders? Good. They should be I…"

"But I told them you weren't," Brittany cut across her. "I said that you were different to anyone I'd met and that even though that might be scary to some people, it wasn't to me. And then I told them that I think you're that good kind of different that you hardly ever see."

The voice Brittany used was mild, but for some reason, Santana couldn't look at her.

"I think they thought I was a little weird," Brittany said, musingly. "But what I'm trying to say is that I think I understand now why you said I was different last night. Because you're different to me as well."

The cheering grew from the crowd nearby as the runners beat their way past, but Santana couldn't have cared less about them. She took a shaky breath.

"Britt you're, you're different to me in the best way possible. And I _do _think that we're more than friends but I just…" She stopped walking and Brittany turned to her with a look that seemed as though she was waiting for Santana to hurt her. Santana forced herself not to look away.

"I never had any real feelings for Puck. I thought maybe I could…I don't know…conjure them out of somewhere when we had sex but we both knew it was over. And it's…" Santana threw her hands up in the air, "I don't even know how to say this right. But I didn't feel anything compared to what happened with us. So, I _do _have real feelings. I just can't… I don't think I'm ready to give you the actions that are supposed to match up to those feelings."

Santana shook her head at the ground and gave a defeated sigh. "I'm screwing this all up again aren't I?"

After a long pause without hearing an answer from Brittany, Santana looked up. Brittany's face was impassive, her normally bright open features masked by some sort of inscrutable distance. She was looking over Santana's shoulder, her eyes unfocused.

"Britt…?" Santana ventured, ducking her head to try and catch Brittany's gaze. "I-I'm sorry…"

Brittany pulled her gaze back into focus and her whole face suddenly changed. It was bright again- clear as though nothing had happened.

"It's okay, San," She chirped. And then she pulled Santana into a brief but firm hug. Santana was so taken aback that she had no real time to respond before Brittany had let her go and turned to look towards the crowd. Their cheering climbed dramatically in volume and Santana, looking too, could just make out a boy around the other side of the track, crossing the finish line, breaking the tape and fisting both hands up into the air.

* * *

><p>Brittany maintained her bubbliness around Santana for the rest of the day and even brought her the last pork bun from the Chinese stall as they all made their way back to the boarding house in the afternoon. But Santana couldn't help shake the feeling that something was off.<p>

Santana didn't get the opportunity to talk to Brittany for the rest of the evening because she holed herself up in Sugar's room with Sugar, Amy and Lauren watching a movie. Santana decided to go to bed early- sick of sitting with everyone else in the hall way listening them gossip and tease about who had flirted with whom during the day.

It felt she'd been asleep for only two minutes when she woke in a considerably darker room, to the sound of her own startled intake of breath. The talking in the hallway was gone and warmth was moving in against her. Before Santana had a chance to unravel her thoughts, a set of lips found her own. Her stomach flipped as she tasted Brittany.

Santana molded to the kiss instantly, dismissing her disorientation and the sleepiness. Her hands climbed blindly up the heat and softness of Brittany's back under her tank top, and then she dragged her nails lightly back down. Brittany shuddered. Santana melted.

It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was what Santana had needed all that day. She groaned as Brittany opened her mouth and sought Santana's tongue with her own, rolling her hips downwards simultaneously. The both hitched their breathing and pulled slightly out of the kiss at the contact.

"Britt," Santana whispered, "do you want to talk about…"

She trailed away when Brittany shook her head.

"You say that you have the feelings but can't put the actions to them, right?"

Santana nodded, warily. Brittany carried on.

"Well, I thought about it lots today after you said that and I realized that you _do _show it. You just don't realize you do."

Santana felt a flush twinge her cheeks. She began to splutter.

"That's not… I don't… It's not like I fawn over you or…"

Seeing Brittany break into a grin above her, Santana fell into reproachful silence.

"No, you don't," Brittany assured her, "it's…it's quieter than that. They're only little things bit I see them and they're…they're enough for me right now. "

Santana tilted her head.

"Really?"

Brittany nodded, and then ducked her head to flick her nose up against Santana's.

"Yeah."

Santana grinned and Brittany kissed her again, deepening it at once so that Santana was suddenly caught up in trying to stifle a moan.

They kissed until they were both breathless. Until the room was spinning and Brittany was almost completely on top of Santana.

Then Brittany broke the kiss and tilted her head back, scooped the hair off her face and travelled her eyes over Santana.

"You really _are_ super beautiful," she observed, small, sly smile tugging at the corner of her moth.

Santana grinned back defiantly.

"So are you."


	13. All The Waiting Hours

**Hello! Sorry it's been such a long time coming I promise to try and update more regularly. **

**I hope you enjoy this, and don't forget to pop on over to my Tumblr for any questions you may have: ****lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr ask******

**And thank you to my beta, ********T97Carolina :) **********

**Chapter 12: All The Waiting Hours**

"Is it actually real?"

"Uh-huh," Santana nodded, her mouth stuffed full of popcorn from her bowl on her lap. Sugar's eyes were rounded with mounting unease, and Santana, sitting behind Sugar on her bed, had to fight hard against the urge to laugh. "Everyone knows it's real," she continued, composing her facial features into a look of dark significance. Sugar's face dropped spectacularly and she turned warily back to her computer screen, which was paused on the opening credits of The Blair Witch Project.

"But like…how did they find the tapes?"

Santana shrugged as she scooped up another handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap and dropped a few pieces into her mouth.

"Apparently the search party only found the tapes, strung up in a bag in the woods," she lied in her most casual voice.

Sugar clapped a hand up to her mouth in horror and scooted her chair a little further away from her desk, but her precautions went to waste as her door was shoved sideways, making her leap back theatrically, almost upsetting her chair.

"We had to go the long way," Lauren panted as she, Brittany, and Mercedes trailed in, each cradling hot chocolates in dining room mugs, "just in case the blood-hound at the end of the hall smelled our 'taking cutlery out of the dining room' rule infringement."

"Rebels," Santana laughed, watching as Lauren maneuvered her way across the room to take the seat beside Santana at the head of Sugar's bed. After Lauren had settled down, Santana turned with deliberate casualness back towards the door and Brittany.

Santana had placed herself strategically on the middle of Sugar's bed, so that she had a one out of two chance of ending up sitting beside Brittany while they watched the movie. It was crazy, calculating it, Santana knew, but it felt like every part of her was caught up in willing Brittany to sit on her other side. So much so that Santana could hardly believe her luck when Brittany slipped past Mercedes and plopped down on the end of the bed beside her, tugging up Sugar's fluffy pink blanket out from underneath her.

"Lift up," she said softly. And Santana, suddenly nervous and fumbling hurriedly lifting the bowl of popcorn up so that Brittany could spread the blanket out over them both.

"Thanks," Santana muttered, settling the bowl back on her lap but she barely had let go of it before Mercedes scooped it out of her hands and sat it definitively on her own lap. On the way to giving Mercedes a dirty look, Santana caught Brittany's eye and they shared a small grin before they were interrupted by Sugar announcing that she was starting the movie.

"Oh, and FYI," Sugar raised her voice so they could hear her, "I may just cry if this gets too scary."

Everyone rolled their eyes, except Brittany. Instead, she pulled back one side of the fluffy blanket and motioned Sugar over in concern.

For a moment, Santana thought Sugar was going to fit in between her and Brittany, but she chose to sit in the corner, pushing Brittany harder against Santana, and Santana harder against Lauren. Lauren was less than happy with the situation, throwing a filthy look down the bed at Sugar, but Santana had to quietly supress a shiver of pleasure as she felt the whole heat of Brittany's side soak through onto her skin.

The Blair Witch Project seemed to encompass all the scariest parts of Santana's childhood. She remembered she and her cousin sneaking into her older cousin's room to watch it on VHS when they were little; They couldn't even make it through the first half hour before they chickened out. Years later, as she sat and watched it with everyone, Santana's whole body was tensed like she was ten years old again but this time for an entirely different reason. Under the blanket, Brittany carefully edged her hand out and curled it around Santana's thigh.

She and Brittany were close enough that all Santana had to do was tilt her head slightly to the side to catch Brittany's eye. But Brittany had them fixed resolutely on the screen, the only sign that she had noticed Santana looking at her was the smile catching at the corners of her lips. She slid her palm higher up Santana's thigh, and began circling the skin there with her fingers. They were slow motions that in most other situations would have been calming, but Santana felt like Brittany's fingertips were scorching her. She shivered involuntarily, and Lauren turned and gave her a look of incredulity.

"You're kidding me, Lopez. Is this actually scaring you, too?"

Santana snapped her head around to Lauren, about to scoff at the suggestion when, behind her Sugar's door rattled open violently. Santana, along with everyone else, jumped at the noise, while Sugar shrieked and practically jumped into Brittany's lap.

Rachel turned out to be the source of the noise. She stood in the doorway wearing her two-piece silk pyjama set and fluffy slippers. She swept her eyes over them all, seeming too agitated to care about Mercedes, Brittany or Lauren's dining room mugs.

"I need advice," she declared.

Lauren sighed and leaned forward to pause the movie.

"That's fine. It's not like you're interrupting anything," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, good," Rachel said vaguely, pushing past Mercedes to get further into the room. She stopped in front of Sugar's desk, flicked the light on, and rounded on them all again.

"Something terrible has happened," she announced darkly.

"What?" Sugar asked in a panicky voice.

"I've just been informed by Sam that Finn isn't going to like what I'm planning to get him for his birthday this month."

"Well, that's hardly an emergency," Santana started, but Sugar cut across her.

"What are you planning?"

"Well…" Rachel hesitated, "I was planning to get him a voucher for a couple's yoga session in town. I-I thought we could do it together and…what, Mercedes?" Rachel turned indignantly towards Mercedes, who was badly attempting to stifle laughter.

"A yoga… A yoga… what?" She gasped.

Rachel bristled. "You're just like Sam! You don't understand…"

"It's a cool idea Rachel," Brittany interrupted her. Rachel turned to her, skeptical.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," Brittany nodded, "but not for a guy like Finn. He's too boring."

Santana snorted as Rachel bristled and flushed red. "Well," she huffed, "seeing as _everyone else _seems to know better than I do what my boyfriend would like, could I have some suggestions?"

"Tits," Santana deadpanned.

Lauren pointed in Rachel's direction and nodded, "tits never fail."

Rachel blinked. "W-what, like, a topless photo?"

"To be honest, I'm sure _anything _you think of would be better than a yoga class," Mercedes pointed out.

Rachel considered this. "Well, my back up option was going to be a salsa class…"

"Oh Jesus," Santana muttered under her breath, but not quietly enough to get past Brittany, who shot her a sideways grin.

"Look, Rachel," Lauren leaned forward to see past Santana, "just go with the yoga classes and get out so we can watch our movie."

Rachel turned to the computer like she'd only just noticed it.

"Oh…movie…right, sorry. So yoga then?"

"Yes!" They all chorused in frustration.

Rachel held up her hands in surrender and made to leave, but at the threshold of the room she turned around and eyed them.

"Brittany, are you having a birthday party? And if so, what day? Because I need to organize Finn's, and I don't want it to clash with yours and divide attendance."

"Well, my birthday is next Saturday," Brittany said. "My mom suggested I have a party at my place so you guys can meet my friends from home, and they can meet all of you."

"Awesome," Sugar nodded, enthused. Brittany grinned and turned slightly to Santana, who hastily composed her features into a grin as well, trying to ignore the prospect of meeting Brittany's old friends and her family. She knew that she'd have to work extra hard to try and push aside whatever was going on with her and Brittany; and that task was hard enough with everyone in the boarding house. The night before, when Santana was easing her way out of Brittany's room at midnight, she'd come face to face with a bleary eyed and confused Emma on her way to the bathroom. Santana was still unsure as to whether or not Emma bought her excuse that Brittany was home sick. The memory made Santana more conscious of Brittany's hand- still insistently hot on her thigh, and the risk that it meant they were taking under everyone's noses.

"That sound so fun," Mercedes exclaimed, pointing at her with a handful of popcorn. "You should make it a cocktail party!"

"With like, dresses and heels and cocktails!" Sugar's enthusiasm made her lean forward and hit Brittany on the arm.

"That would be cool," Brittany exclaimed, turning to Sugar and in her excitement, took her hand off Santana's thigh. Santana hid the pang of loss she felt behind a polite smile and Rachel, obviously deciding she was no longer the center of attention, left the room, sliding the door closed behind her.

Once she was gone, Lauren abruptly cut in to Sugar and Brittany's brainstorming about her party.

"Alright, time's up, time's up. We're starting the movie again."

"But…" Sugar began.

"No. No buts. Movie," Lauren said, turning to the desk and jabbing the space bar of the computer.

As the shallow, rapid breathing of the majorly freaked out girl on screen began once again, everyone turned back to face the movie.

Santana held her breath as Brittany shifted the pillows behind her around to try and get comfortable. She stilled when her whole side was once again pressed up against Santana's and a moment later, Santana let out a shaky breath as the hot cup of Brittany's palm found Santana's thigh again.

* * *

><p>The next day ended up being the first day of the week in which the insistent rain eased enough to let some weak sunlight in through the classroom windows and opened up the possibility that they would be able to sit on their usual patch of grass in Paradise.<p>

Santana had history just before lunchtime with Lauren, Tina and Rachel. When the bell rang they all headed out to the grass to see if anyone else had deemed it dry enough to sit there. Due to Rachel's crazy walking speed, they turned out to be the first of the 10th grade boarders to arrive. As they walked across the grass to their spot, Santana saw enough of the small flecks of water on her shoes to make her doubtful, but Rachel seemed unfazed by it and sat down.

Santana watched as Rachel's expression went from smugness to alarm and she shot back up, swiping her hands on her butt, twisting around trying to see it.

"Oh, it's wet! It's still wet, don't sit everyone, it's still wet!"

Santana joined in Lauren and Tina's laughter at Rachel's hysteria and looked around the rest of the grassy area. The bell had sounded almost ten minutes ago. Either everyone hadn't yet left their classrooms, or they were avoiding the grass completely.

"Guess it still counts as a wet lunch day," she said, "like we all said it would, Rachel."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the pointed look Santana shot her.

"Whatever, Santana. I'm _obviously _paying for it now, aren't I?" She said, tugging the back of her skirt.

"Oh, stop being dramatic," Santana scoffed. Her patience was frayed after already having spent an hour listening to Rachel debate the effectiveness of the League of Nations with their history teacher, and she didn't think she could take much more. Drawing a breath, she turned pointedly from Rachel to Lauren and Tina and said brightly, "art room?"

The art room was one of the 3 designated wet day class rooms for the tenth graders, and the boarding house girls usually took up one corner of it. And, sure enough, everyone was already there- all sitting around several of the benches in the far corners of the room. It was muffin day at the boarding house- which meant everyone got to choose between 4 different kinds when they arrived in the dining room to make their lunches in the morning. The flavors were blueberry, apple, bran and chocolate and as with every muffin day, the occasion had turned lunchtime into a bartering war. As Santana, Lauren, Rachel and Tina arrived at the benches, Sugar turned to them, holding out her muffin with cupped hands, her eyes pleading.

"I got bran by mistake," she whined, "who wants to trade?"

"You're out of luck," Lauren said, dumping her bag on the bench and sitting down to unwrap her own chocolate muffin, "only Rachel is crazy enough to like bran, and I can tell you as the victim of her morning assault on the breakfast lady that she definitely has one already."

Sugar's face dropped, and she held her muffin out to Santana and the others. "Any takers?"

"Here, Sugar." Brittany leaned into view around Quinn, holding out her half unwrapped one. "It's blueberry, and I don't mind bran."

Sugar squealed in delight and leaned over to Brittany. Halfway through their trade, Brittany looked up and saw Santana standing near the edge of the bench. She gave a slight, shy smile and nodded to the vacant stool nearby beside Mercedes and Amy.

"Hi," Santana said when she sat down. She was shocked to hear the breathlessness in her voice.

"Hey, San," Brittany chirped, picking apart the wrapping on Sugar's bran muffin. When she was done, she raised the muffin to her face to take a bite out of the top, but stopped with it hovering in front of her mouth. Her eyes snapped to Santana's and then she lowered the muffin and took a breath.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go see a…" Brittany stopped speaking and looked down abruptly at her lap. Santana followed her gaze and saw her phone lit up and vibrating in the scoop of her uniform skirt.

"I better answer this," Brittany murmured vaguely, picking up her phone and standing up without taking her eyes off of it.

Santana watched her wind her way through the benches to the door of the classroom, mapping the tense curves of her shoulders and the way she began speaking as soon as she put her phone to her ear. Santana watched until she had left the classroom and stepped down the stairs out of view. Then a hand on Santana's shoulder startled her away from the empty doorframe.

Santana turned to see that Amy had taken Brittany's vacant seat but she was stretched so upright she was almost hovering above it, craning her head to try and see Brittany outside the classroom window.

"Did you see who she's on the phone with?"

"Uh, no," Santana said, frowning.

"Hmph, I wanted to know." Amy slumped back down in her seat and shot Santana a conspiratory look, and whispered, "I think I know who it is."

"Uh…why are we whispering," Santana whispered back.

"Because I think she's talking to…" Amy shot a quick look over her shoulder at Mercedes, "…Sam."

"Sam?" Santana repeated, dropping the whisper out of confusion. Amy violently shushed her and looked back around to Mercedes.

"You _can't _tell Mercedes okay. 'Cause I think she still likes him."

"Tell her what?" Santana asked, swallowing awkwardly as memories from the sports day flooded through her. Brittany hoisted onto Sam's shoulder- one of his arms anchored around her hips, and a hand spanning across the back of her thigh, trying to stop her from kicking. The image came back to Santana so clearly that it could have been happening right in front of her and it seemed to have the power to push aside every other image she had of Brittany, even the ones that were filled with the shifting of sheets and the taste of Brittany's tongue on her own.

"Britt was texting him this morning in French," Amy said darkly, "I saw his name on a message when she left her phone on the desk."

"Sam?" Santana repeated slowly, earning her an impatient nod from Amy.

"They're totally into one another."

Santana made a faint noise of interest, and then bent to her bag, ruffling through it in hopes of deterring Amy. When she'd been back and forth through the contents several times, she sat up and brought it with her onto her lap, sighing in fake frustration.

"Sorry, Britt, you can have your seat back," Amy said suddenly, and Santana abandoned her act as Amy shifted off the stool beside her, and Brittany took her place once again.

"Hey, sorry," she said brightly, holding up her phone to Santana, "I just had to take that."

"What's so urgent about a call from Sam?"

The question snapped out of Santana, and at the tone of her voice Brittany's smile faltered.

"Uh, nothing, but I…"

"I have to go," Santana said shortly, standing up abruptly and zipping up her bag. "I think I left something in my last class."

"Oh, well I can come with you if you'd like," Brittany started, putting a hand out on Santana's arm.

Gently, but resolutely, Santana shifted it out of Brittany's grasp.

"No, it's okay," she said, hiking her bag up higher on her shoulder. "I'll just see you in P.E."

* * *

><p>Realizing that she had a half an hour before she had to go to P.E., Santana walked around the school for the rest of lunchtime, trying to keep her stride purposeful so that people thought she had somewhere to be. Eventually, when it began to rain again, Santana headed to the gym where her P.E class was due to spend the next period.<p>

Predictably, the changing rooms were deserted, so Santana got changed and sat on one of the benches, staring at the freckled linoleum between her sneakers. She felt emotion all taut in her chest- simmering annoyance at Brittany, and at herself for not confronting her and asking straight out about her and Sam. Santana's knee jerk reaction when it came to things that pissed her off was to strike and confront. But when it came to Brittany pissing her off, Santana ran before she had to face any kinds of truths. The thought of Brittany and Sam made her want to punch something. Hard. Santana had only felt jealousy this intense- razor edged and violent - one other time in her life.

_She remembered it vividly, her spot against the wall of some football players basement. She had pressed herself up between a piano- covered with a sheet, and the door of the downstairs bathroom- which had been locked for what seemed like forever- the crack underneath it emitting a glow that flickered with shadows of movement. _

_All around her, the room was hazy, because of the smoke machine someone had set up. The smoke smelled like cotton candy, and muted all the flashing lights, so that everything seemed muffled, scattered, and half real. The only real thing was the insistent throb of the music- which had wormed it's way inside Santana's ears and coursed through her bloodstream- making her body beat in time. Santana had just downed three vodka shots, and held the fuming smoke from the end of a joint in her mouth- letting it swell down her lungs and up, up- past her brain and out somewhere far above her, taking most of what she felt up with it. All that she was left with was some vague notion that she had heavily perfumed breath, and a renewed, almost profound appreciation for the lights. She had no energy to dance, and shrugged off the tugging hands of Liv and the other two boys that had picked them up and brought them to the party. Santana preferred the white painted brick wall- it's roughness, it's realness under her fingers. She folded her hands up behind her back and pressed them against it, trying to see the familiar figures of her friends through the haze. _

"_Excuse me?" A voice was blaring, and Santana blinked away from the dark shifting crowd to see a girl- dark eyed with her equally dark hair loose and plastered to her forehead by sweat. _

"_Are you in line for the…"_

"_Oh, the bathroom?" Santana stepped away from the wall and shook her head, "No, I'm not." _

"_Oh, okay, do you know how long…" The girl gestured and again, Santana shook her head. _

"_Pretty sure there's sex involved rather than peeing." _

_The girl blinked slowly at Santana, and then her laughter came, light and easy. It fit well over the music. It made Santana smile. _

_The girl moved to lean against the vacant space of wall beside Santana and held up her heels that she had hooked around her fingers. _

"_I had to get these off, they were killing me." _

_Santana laughed politely, and swallowed- the most detailed swallow she'd ever done. Then she let her face muscles drift into a smile and turned her eyes back to the crowd. _

_It took her a moment to focus on the crowd- to distinguish the bodies from the smoke and the movements of their dancing from the swirling of her own eyesight. And then she saw Liv, curled close to a boy Santana did not recognize. His head was bent to hers, and Santana could see Liv's hands fisted up in his hair. They were kissing and rocking to the music- their bodied tangled so close that not even smoke could find it's way between them. _

_Santana stared at them and felt something coil in her chest, raking along her nerves. Lightheaded, Santana reached out behind her to steady herself, but she kept her eyes latched onto Liv, watching as she deepened the kiss, rolled her body into the boy, and then pulled out of the kiss. And then it was like she had sensed Santana looking at her. She turned her head, rested it on the boy's shoulder, and aimed a smile straight at Santana. _

_It struck Santana like Liv had thrown a punch, and the feeling in her chest reached breaking point. Suddenly, the smoke was closing in on her and her throat was clogged with tears. She turned away from the Liv, brushed off the questions of the girl beside her, and made her way blindly through the flashing smoke and the crowd. _

_She burst out of the basement and headed straight through the people loitering in the hallway to the front door. Once she was outside she doubled over and gulped the light, cool air into her lungs. Halfway through steadying her breathing, she began to cry. _

Santana felt like that now, sitting in the changing room. Less out of control, and less confused, but just as angry, just as winded by that tight fist of jealousy. It was the sudden bang and whine of the changing room door that made Santana start out of her memory, and she looked up to see her classmates trailing into the changing room in one loud gush.

Santana stood up, only half aware of who exactly was around her, and left the changing rooms, heading out to the gym and the benches which was where everyone gathered once they were changed to wait for Ms Hawkins.

Miss Hawkins was already there when Santana arrived, heaving a netted bag full of basketballs out of the storage cupboard, along with an armful of small fluorescent orange cones.

She tottered over to the benches and flopped the net on the floor, where the basketballs edged the net sideways with their bounce and jostle. Without even looking at Santana, Miss Hawkins handed her the cones and turned to the court.

"Put cones so that the court is divided into four," she said, gesturing to the court.

Nodding, Santana started off around the gym, setting up the cones the way that Miss Hawkins had indicated. As she moved, the gym became louder and more crowded as people finished dressing and headed out to the benches. As Santana finished the last of her cone placing, she caught sight of Brittany, dressed in a light blue tank and short gym shorts, standing up against the wall of the gym. As soon as Santana's gaze connected with her own, Brittany notched her chin higher and tilted her head sideways. It was a wordless question, full of worry, but Santana dropped her eyes to place the last cone. When she stood upright again, Brittany was looking at Ms Hawkins, who had begun introducing the lesson to the class.

Ms Hawkins ended up dividing the class into groups and directing them to one of the four sections that Santana had marked out with the cones. Then the groups had to split half and half on each side of the space, and, using the basketball that Ms Hawkins supplied them with, play one on one dribbling exercises.

Thankfully for Santana, Brittany was sorted into group one and she into group four, which placed them on opposite ends of the gym. But the distance between them didn't help ease the tightness of emotion in Santana's chest. She couldn't concentrate on the game- and either let her opponent straight past her, or, if she had the ball, dribbled it too far ahead of her and lost it. Every time it wasn't her turn, Santana stood vacantly on the sidelines, her eyes pulled to Brittany- to the length and stretch of her limbs, to the swish of her hair, and the gale of easy natured laughter that Santana's ears seemed perfectly attuned to and which felt like a personal assault each time she heard it.

By the time Miss Hawkins blew her whistle for them to go and get changed, Santana was dry mouthed and irritated. She broke away from the rest of the students to head towards the side door of the gym and around the corner where a water fountain was secured in the small gap between the gym and the boundary fence of the school.

Santana lowered her face to the tap, flicking her ponytail over one shoulder so the end wouldn't get wet, and gulped several cool mouthfuls. It didn't taste the greatest, and usually she would avoid these water fountains at all costs, but she needed not to be crowded in a changing room near Brittany.

The whole lesson, she had kept running over the possibility of Sam and Brittany. It made Santana's skin run cold when she thought about the fact that every night for the last week and a half had entailed some kind of late night encounter with Brittany- a mess of tugging at clothing and tasting one another's skin and needing to be closer and closer until they were rising and falling and gasping against one another's mouths- and all at the same time, Brittany could have been talking to Sam, and doing the same thing, or wanting to do it with him.

It made Santana so sick that she spat out her last gulp of metallic tasting water and stood upright, wiping her mouth. Then she leaned against the gym wall and closed her eyes, seriously weighing out the possibility of hiding by the fountain until the home bell rang.

At the sound of someone approaching- the scuff of a sneaker on concrete- Santana blinked her eyes open in surprise and saw Brittany standing a little way off- still in her P.E. gear, looking at Santana, pinked cheeked and shy.

"Hi, San," she said in voice that matched the shy look on her face.

Santana turned her eyes away towards the ground and didn't reply. After a moment, she heard more scuffing sounds, and Brittany's sneakers appeared in her line of sight.

"Have you been upset by something?"

"What could make you possibly think that?" Santana could hear the sardonic snap in her own voice, and could almost picture Brittany flinching. Yet, in a way she was satisfied at the way it sounded- glad that it would let Brittany know without a doubt how pissed she was.

"It's Sam, isn't it?"

Santana looked up sharply at the tone of Brittany's voice, which was deadened and matter of fact. She was staring unblinkingly at Santana.

"Sam…" Santana started, feigning confusion. But she stopped as Brittany took several steps forwards and took her hands.

"Amy asked me about talking to him, and I guessed then that that's why you left. Because you guys both think I'm dating him."

It was a challenge, Santana knew. A challenge for Santana to deny it, and prove she had more faith in Brittany. But Santana didn't rise to it, because she wanted the answer more than she was able to admit.

She looked down at her hands in Brittany's- the slender fingers and the lined, freckled skin. They'd held Santana- mapped her, crept around her curves, been inside her. She trusted them more than she knew. She couldn't imagine them against Sam's skin.

The silence had seemed to communicate to Brittany what Santana couldn't, because she stepped up to her even closer, until they were toe-to-toe and nudged Santana's knee with her own.

Santana looked up. Brittany's face was so close to her own that, had there been time, she could have counted her eyelashes- started a running tally of her intricacies.

"I don't like him," she said in a steady voice, "and he doesn't like me. He has Mercedes that makes him feel all up in the air with butterflies. And I have _you._ And…" Brittany let go of Santana's hands and curved them around her back, "it's _you _that I wanted to ask to the movies tomorrow night."

"The movies…" Santana had drawn a blank with Brittany's face so close to her own.

"Yeah, you know when I tried in the art room. I want to see the new Pixar movie. And I know that if I bribe you with popcorn and this…" Brittany leant forward and pressed her lips- soft and quick- against Santana's, "…you might come with me."

"So, Sam…the phone calls to Sam…" Santana spluttered.

"He wants to get Mercedes back. And he wants to get her back at my party, so I've been trying to sort out how to not invite Shane and invite Sam instead."

"Oh...I…"

Brittany shook her head. "You didn't know. But you also didn't ask. You have to next time though, because otherwise this ends up happening and I don't get to plat you in Basketball."

Santana watched half of a grin form on Brittany's mouth as she said the words and felt her own mouth tug in response.

"You wouldn't have stood a chance," Santana murmured, brushing her lips very lightly against Brittany's neck. She soaked in the familiar trill of excitement as Brittany stiffened against her and let out a shaky breath.

"You wouldn't have, would you?" Santana persisted, opening her mouth slightly to glance her tongue off the skin of Brittany's neck.

Brittany squirmed against her and nodded, her breathing hitching.

"Probably not."

* * *

><p>The Pixar film turned out to be heartbreakingly great. Up- about an old guy and a fat kid and a house airborne by balloons. However it became hard for Santana to follow the story line when Brittany leaned over and laid her head against Santana's shoulder. They were at the back corner of the theatre, so Santana didn't really think about anyone noticing and she concentrated on savoring the heavy warmth of Brittany's head, and her feathery hair curled up against Santana's neck. At times, Santana turned her head slightly towards Brittany's- just enough so that she could fully inhale the scent of her hair. It was Santana's favourite smell in the world. She could hardly get enough of it. It was sometimes all that remained of Brittany after Santana had snuck back to her own room, laying in her own cold sheets with her nerves still shivering and Brittany's scent drifting over her.<p>

After the movie, they got ice cream to share on the walk home, and Santana couldn't help feeling helplessly proud to be walking beside Brittany, holding out the ice cream cone just far enough away that it was a struggle for Brittany to extend her tongue out and scoop up a mouthful. She couldn't believe that she was the one that got to make this girl laugh and witness the unique way she saw the world. And there had been something magical about the whole evening, something that made Santana think it should be more like a date. It had all the butterflies and sideways smiles and the brushing of hands.

The whole way home it was on the tip of Santana's tongue to ask Brittany if they were in fact on a date, and she mapped out the words very carefully how to ask, but they would all escape her when she opened her mouth. Instead, she involved herself in throwing suggestions back and forth about how to get Sam and Mercedes together at Brittany's party, while still having a good excuse for why Shane couldn't come. Brittany had suggested a 'no bear lookalikes' rule to exclude Shane, which Santana had laughed at, before realising that she had nothing better.

They got to the side of the hostel- through the school driveway that was used by day as a way to school, and by night a shortcut home from town to avoid being late- when Santana, hardly able to stand it any longer, put her hand out to halt Brittany and pulled her over to the shadow created by the large wooden fence which contained the boarding house.

Brittany's face was half in shadow, but Santana could see that she was looking at her expectantly. Santana took half a step closer and took a breath.

Something made Brittany giggle suddenly, and she pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle it.

Santana ran her eyes over Brittany. "What? What's so funny?"

Brittany shook her head. "Not funny, just…" She stuck out her bottom lip and swivelled her eyes upwards, apparently looking for the words, "just cute."

"What's cute?" Santana's voice had taken on that soft edged tone that she never could help when it came to Brittany.

"That you're nervous."

"I…" The look on Brittany's face- earnest and smiling- made Santana switch her denial into an exasperated huff.

"I'm nervous, yeah, great, thank you for pointing that out."

Brittany gave her that small, lingering smile.

"You're welcome."

Santana shot her a look of mock annoyance.

"I actually, well I was wondering if this…this night was just us hanging out or?" Santana grimaced as her tone lifted at the end of the question, turning it into a sort of pathetic, nervous request.

Brittany blinked at her in surprise.

"You said you didn't want to date me. You said you had _feelings _for me but didn't think you could act on them."

They stared at one another, and then Santana, her body buzzing with nerves, stepped up closer. After casting a quick glance to check the coast was clear around them, she cupped her hands around Brittany's jaw and pulled her into a kiss, slipping their tongues together, surging her body up against Brittany's. She broke away after a moment, but only slightly, so that they could rest their foreheads against one another.

"I think I've changed my mind," Santana whispered.

"About what?" Brittany whispered back.

"Tonight _was _a date."

Even at such close range, Santana saw Brittany's face change. It lit up, and her eyes, twinkling, moved back and forth over Santana's.

"You knew that before I did, though, didn't you?"

Brittany nodded and Santana kissed her again, harder this time, and full of what she hoped was all the relief and happiness that was surging all through her.

Brittany's mouth was soft but forceful against her own and she deepened the kiss after a moment, swelling her tongue hotly against Santana's. Santana groaned and dimly felt Brittany edging her back against the fence.

They kissed until Santana was almost light headed. She needed Brittany against her in her bed. She needed to taste the skin all over Brittany's body. So she pulled away and said breathily, "wait, let's go inside and we can…we'll go to bed."

Brittany was heavy lidded and panting as well, but she nodded, leaning back to give Santana one last kiss. Santana was halfway leaned into it when she froze, horror trilling all around her as she caught sight of movement over Brittany's shoulder.

Two figures were standing several yards away, half obscured by shadow, but entirely recognizable. Rachel and Mercedes' shopping bags hanging limply by their sides, and they were wearing identical looks of shock as they took in Santana and Brittany up ahead of them.


	14. How Many Signs You'll Find Tonight

**Here's an update, well overdue, I'm sorry. **

**Thanks to my super reliable and awesome beta **********T97Carolina.************

************Read and review! Thank you :)************

**Oh, and! If anyone is amazing at photo shop and wants to try make a cover photo for No Place Else, private message me :D **

**Chapter 13: How Many Signs You'll Find Tonight **

Santana had perfected the art of concentrating so hard on her dinner plate that everything else was drowned out. Conversation was one great flow of noise around her- indistinct and unimportant. In fact, had Santana had it her way, she wouldn't have even gone to dinner, but the matrons had started monitoring girls who they thoughts looked too skinny. The breakfast lady had already warned Santana that if she missed any more meals she would have to go to the counselor. Santana had to bite her tongue to stop herself from snapping back that the lady needed to hang out in the 11th grade bathrooms after meals to discover the ones in need of real attention.

And the irony of it all was that Santana did eat- the more carb loaded and cheesier the food, the better. She simply preferred to do it in a place that didn't risk awkward encounters with Mercedes or Rachel- or anyone else they might have told about what they'd witnessed Santana and Brittany doing at the end of last week.

In the six days since they'd found out however, freakishly, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was the best thing that Santana could hope for, yet, somehow, it made it worse. Neither Mercedes nor Rachel had given Brittany or Santana any hint that they suspected anything, even from the moment they'd seen them, Santana had just turned away abruptly and walked down the driveway briskly, assuming Brittany would follow. She hadn't spoken to either of them since then, but from Brittany's reports, it seemed that they had been acting completely normal. Santana never got the chance to find this out for herself however, because she'd been avoiding any possible interaction with them- even during the classes they had together, mostly she kept her head down and concentrated on what the lesson was about. In fact, Santana suspected that in the past week, she'd learned more from her classes than she had her entire year last year.

She was even, to her horror, starting to majorly geek out in her Politics class, and had started doing extra readings of intense articles she'd found using Google Scholar. In fact, half the reason she was practically shovelling her dinner down was because she had a freshly printed one waiting for her on her desk- and was intending to get well stuck in before prep even started.

She'd almost half finished her plate when the rest of the tenth graders arrived at the table. Normally, Brittany would quietly take a seat next to Santana. And while, under Santana's strict instructions, they hardly acknowledged one another, the soft brush of Brittany's elbow against her own was quietly profound. But she had Cheerios' practice every Wednesday, which meant that the person who sat down beside Santana was Mercedes. Santana could tell by the sweep of perfume, and it made her tense automatically.

Debating whether to just stop eating and take her plate up to the trash can half full, Santana shot a calculating glance up the dining hall. But the dinner matron was hovering dangerously close to the trash cans, clutching her list of names to tick off who was eating and who wasn't. Bitterly, Santana looked back down at her dinner, and tried to make herself look completely engrossed in spearing as many grains of rice onto one prong of her fork. But the significance of her involvement didn't seem to faze Mercedes, who turned to her as the voices of everyone else began to fill their table.

"Hey Santana, I need to talk to you about something."

In a weirdly careful and calm way- a complete contrast to all the crazy that was going on inside her head, Santana laid down her knife and fork and regarded Mercedes, who was cheerfully chewing her first mouthful of chicken and rice.

"Britt and I sorted out who was going in what car to her house while we were in French."

"Okay…" Santana raised her eyebrows in annoyance as Mercedes smiled pointedly at her.

"And you'll be happy to know," she continued, slightly smug, "that you made it into the birthday girl's car with Sugar and I… Well, and Brittany's dad…and Brittany too, obviously."

"Alright," Santana nodded, picking up her fork and wishing with all the concentration she possessed that Mercedes would have the good sense to shut her mouth. Their table was full now, but conversation hadn't revved up enough to disguise anything awkward that Mercedes might say.

"Well…" Mercedes prompted after a pause, giving Santana a nudge.

"Well, what?" Santana snapped, shooting her eyes upwards at Mercedes, whose face dropped in surprise at her reaction.

"I- I just thought you'd like that, rather than getting the bus with the others."

"Why is she getting special attention?" Lauren had caught on to what they were saying.

At the other end of the table, Rachel piped up, and Santana closed her eyes briefly in horror.

"It's who Brittany wanted in the car, so shhh Lauren. Her dad's paying all of our bus fares anyway."

This shut Lauren up, but also sent everyone else oohing and ahhing about how nice Brittany's dad was, and how nice the rest of her family was sure to be. Santana, still feeling nauseous from the fear of what Mercedes and Rachel might yet say, decided to cut her losses and take her half full plate up.

Operation 'plate-return' turned out to be a complete success to Santana's relief. But, just as she made her way up to the trash cans, the door at the very end of the dining room burst open, letting in a flood of girls who had come to dinner late because of sports trainings.

Santana knew that Brittany would be amongst them, lining up in front of the dinner lady and her list with Emma, Amy and Quinn, but Santana couldn't stomach sticking around a moment longer. She dumped her left overs in the bin and slid her plate along to the two ninth graders who were on allocated dish duty before hurriedly slipping out the side door of the dining room and hurrying across the grass to the door of the stairwell up to the dorm.

It was only when she felt the twist of the lock of her bedroom door under her fingers that Santana felt the tension lift. And then, the exhaustion flooded in, and suddenly she didn't feel like reading her politics paper. She slumped on her bed, pressed her face into her pillow and took a shuddering breath that echoed slightly with tears.

After a moment she sat up, shaking her head. She couldn't cry, she thought. There was nothing to cry about, except for the pressing exhaustion, which came from her worry and her constant monitoring of every situation that included Mercedes and Rachel.

And then, there was the stomach churning prospect of Brittany's party that weekend, where there would be alcohol and Brittany's family, and old friends, and the boarding girls, and then Santana, standing in the back ground and trying to pretend that she didn't still carry each touch of Brittany's on her body and that her insides didn't wind up when she caught the scent of Brittany's perfume, or witnessed a certain angle of her smile.

Santana felt the tears surge harder in her throat again and she was trying to breathe in such a way that they would be stifled, when there came a soft knock against her door. Santana looked around to see it jerking slightly, as though someone was tugging it on the other side. Then there was another knock.

"Santana?" Brittany's muffled voice came through the crack. "Are you there? Or did your door lock itself?"

Santana hesitated- just for a fraction, and then she stood up and unlocked her door, pulling it back about a foot so that she could see Brittany on the other side. She was wearing her Cheerios' jacket overtop of her cheerleading uniform. Her hair was fuzzy from exercise up in a pony tail.

Santana didn't step away from the door.

"Why aren't you eating your dinner?" She asked.

"Quinn's heating it up for me. I just saw you leave, and then the others said you got all weird when they started talking about my party."

Santana felt a spark of annoyance, and she rolled her eyes.

"Of course they did. It's because they're looking for anything they can between me and you because they all know. Mercedes and Rachel are such fucking loud mouths."

Brittany frowned at Santana's words, and shook her head slightly.

"No I don't think they have told anyone…"

"They would have, trust me," Santana snapped, "I've known them longer, so, please, just stop pretending that this whole mess is fine."

There was a charged moment of silence, and Santana stared wildly at Brittany, watching as the tips of her cheeks and ears turned pink. In all ordinary circumstances, the sight of that would have had Santana all weak and apologetic. But all the tension and stress she'd been shouldering had welled up again, and she had carried on speaking before she could check herself.

"And as for your party, the reason I got pissed was because you insisted on singling me out when it's crucial that we keep a low profile. To be honest I don't even know if it's such a good idea if I even go."

Brittany's eyes narrowed sharply, and she tilted her head to the side.

"Um," she started, her voice low and flat, "maybe it's crucial to _you. _But how about how I feel? What if I'm not ashamed of us and want…"

"That's so not fair," Santana snapped, feeling her face flush. In a surge of anger she attempted to shut her door, but Brittany stepped forward to block it and stared at Santana.

"None of this is fair," she said quietly, her tone of voice softening.

Santana stepped back, not taking her eyes of Brittany. And Brittany edged further into the room, closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," Santana said after a moment, deflating with the words.

Brittany nodded, but stayed where she was, eyeing Santana.

"You know that I don't care what anyone thinks," Santana said, "It's just that if everyone finds out things will be crazy weird and I can't see it ending up well."

"But can't we just take it one step at a time?" Brittany's voice had an edge of plea in it, "can't we just…I don't know… Look forward to my party? About you riding in the car with me and meeting my dad and my family and Lord Tubbington?"

"Britt…"

Santana trailed off as Brittany took several steps forwards, until she was right up in front of Santana. She snaked her arms around Santana's waist and tugged their bodies together.

"You don't have any reason to be scared. It'll all work out," Brittany said, her voice muffled against Santana's neck.

Santana blinked away the tears that had risen in her eyes and put her arms around Brittany's shoulders to return the hug.

"I hope you're right," she murmured.

Brittany shifted her head and pressed her lips against the top of Santana's shoulder, blowing hot air into the fabric of her school blazer. It warmed through the layers onto Santana's skin, and made her smile automatically. She pulled back further to make Brittany look up at her. And then she ducked her head forwards and caught her lips in a kiss.

It took only a second before they sunk into the kiss like they were starving. And then, sometime later, Santana became vaguely aware of Brittany's hands, which were gripping at Santana's waist, trying to steer her towards the bed. Santana needed no encouragement, and they fumbled down together against her pillows, kissing clumsily. Brittany's hands were up in Santana's hair, coaxing it out of her ponytail while Santana's hands had found the hem of Brittany's Cheerio's skirt, and were sweeping up and around her thighs, looking for some kind of give in the tight spandex underwear the whole team was made to wear underneath.

After a moment of fussing, Santana felt Brittany giggle against her lips and wriggle away, standing up to lock the door, shrug off her Cheerio's jacket and extract herself from the spandex underwear. When she came back to the bed, Santana wrapped her arms around her and tugged her down, so that Brittany landed, squealing and laughing, on top of her. Santana caught the noises in a kiss, and suddenly Brittany wasn't laughing, but taking heaving breaths through her nose as her tongue and Santana's rolled together, and Santana's hands found the crease of Brittany's thighs.

At Santana's touch, Brittany spread her legs, so she was straddling Santana, her elbows planted on either side of Santana's head, and her ragged breathing ghosting through their kiss as Santana's hand climbed higher.

Touching Brittany had come naturally to Santana. On their second night together, Santana had snapped her hand under the elastic of Brittany's pajamas and skated her fingers across the soft folds, without hesitation. Of course, she had practically been able to taste her own heartbeat, her fingers may have been shaky and unsure, and she blushed when they slipped awkwardly across Brittany's wetness, not quite getting the right spot until Brittany helped her by guiding her wrist. But it had gotten easier, it had gotten better, and the initial thrill of how warm Brittany was- how soft, how wet- never went away. It made Santana take a sharp breath, and pull out of the kiss a little to concentrate fully on the feeling of Brittany's folds beneath her fingers. Brittany stilled as Santana's fingers slipped up and down, finding a rhythm against her clit. And then she shifted her knees outwards, so that her hips sunk her lower, making it easier for Santana to crane her wrist around, and sink her fingers up inside Brittany.

The feel of it made them both lose their breath again. Santana held still inside Brittany, scanning Brittany's face for a trace of how it felt for her. Her eyes were closed, her eyebrows hitched slightly together, lips were parted and her breathing slow and shaky. She looked like she was waiting for something. And she was so beautiful that a part of Santana just wanted to stay still and watch her face- watch how her thoughts and emotions changed it's angles ever so slightly. But, as if of their own accord, Santana's fingers began bending back and forth inside Brittany- slowly- slipping through the heat and the slick, soft feel of her.

Brittany's breathing heightened, and she pitched downwards a little more, leaning more heavily against Santana. She ducked her head down in the hollow between Santana's shoulder and her neck and began to moan softly. The sounds struck Santana somewhere deep inside her- sent her insides shivering. She bit her bottom lip to stifle her own moan and surged her fingers faster, hooking her free hand around the side of Brittany's jaw, and bringing her face up to kiss Brittany again, because Santana needed all of her.

* * *

><p>Brittany's dad was nothing like Santana had expected, although she'd never really spared any proper thoughts about what he'd be like. What she didn't expect was a guy in a glossy two-tone tie and a sharply ironed business shirt to climb out of the back of a flashy Land Rover. She was so surprised that she even joined in the raised eyebrow look Sugar and Mercedes were sharing. He came towards them holding his arms out, and Santana saw, as his button shirt cuffs raised themselves up his arms, that he had even more extremely freckled skin than Brittany. He was wearing one of those crest rings on one finger, as well as his wedding ring, and his blonde hair was brushed overly neat. He reminded Santana of Quinn's dad, who Santana had never really liked. It made an odd sort of apprehension settle in the pit of her stomach.<p>

But as soon as Brittany reached him his face split into a grin that was so familiar it nearly stopped Santana in her tracks.

"Come here you," he said. And Brittany stood on tiptoes to kiss him, but he anchored his arms around her and lifted her up, spinning her around several times- his black leather shoes crunching on the gravel of the car park.

He greeted the others by shaking their hands good naturedly, and repeating each of their names after Brittany had said them- a strategy that Santana's own businessman father had taught her. Brittany's dad had that same unassuming good-naturedness that Brittany carried with her, and when he asked if all the other girls needed a lift to the bus stop, Santana felt her anxiety ease a little. She slid into the back seat of the car with Mercedes and Sugar far more relaxed than she thought she would be.

They had to call into Brittany's dad's office before making the two hour drive to Brittany's place, which meant that they arrived at Brittany's house with about an hour to spare before the party began. They found everyone who had taken the bus sitting in Brittany's lounge with her mom keeping them company. The place was nice but decorated, in Santana's opinion, a bit eclectically. Nothing _quite _matched. Unlike Santana's place, which seemed to have been stripped down to three base colors- black, white and grey, Brittany's house was a swirl of almost every color imaginable. It made Santana smile. It was warm and sunny and inviting.

They'd barely gotten out of the car when Brittany's mom came bustling out of the house. She had Brittany's blue eyes, and a similar way of giggling when she got excited. She asked them all to call her Lisa- which wasn't her real name, but she liked it better.

To Santana's surprise, it wasn't only the Alexandra girls that had made the trip up, but so had the Andrews' boys. Finn, Artie, Sam, Blaine, Kurt, Mike and Rory were all there. Puck, Santana noted with relief, had obviously thought it better not to be there. With all the avoiding of everybody Santana had done during the past week, it was odd to suddenly be confronted with everyone all in one room.

Brittany left them all in the lounge, and Santana greatly wanted to follow her, to have a quiet moment with Brittany showing her around her room, but instead she took the seat that Lauren indicated and half listened to the conversation going on around her, in which the others were comparing their presents for Brittany in lowered voices.

The boys had all pitched in, and brought her a custom made letterman jacket in the Andrews' colors, but with an 'B' instead of an 'A' on the front of it, because Brittany would always steal theirs whenever she could. Rachel, Mercedes and Tina had brought her a necklace- with those 7 rings that were supposed to symbolise luck and other sentimental things. Quinn, Amy and Emma had each brought her a bunch of quirky accessories from a cool shop in the mall downtown, while Sugar and Lauren had brought her gift vouchers for the nail shop and the bookshop in town as well.

Santana kept quiet, and didn't offer anyone knowledge of what she'd gotten Brittany. She thought it was stupid and had almost turned around and returned it the moment she'd bought it. But something had stopped her, and now that it was sitting wrapped in her duffel. Santana knew that there was no way out now, unless she pretended like she hadn't brought Brittany one, and ended up looking like a bitch. It was a constellations book- a newer edition of the one that Santana had as a kid. One day when they were hanging out in Santana's room after school, Santana had brought up in passing that she used the tacks in her wall to find constellations to help her get to sleep. Brittany had been fascinated, and sat on Santana's bed, listening in rapt attention as Santana rearranged the pins into all the constellations she could remember and tried to explain them.

In the end, Santana had thought the book would explain it all better than she could. But she didn't want to give it to Brittany in front of everyone else, so while they'd all been waiting in the foyer for Brittany's dad, Santana had managed to slip her gift into the side pocket of Brittany's own bag.

It wasn't long before Brittany reappeared in the sitting room again carrying what looked like a huge bundle of fur in her arms. Santana blinked at it for a moment, trying to make sense of exactly what it was, when it twisted awkwardly and revealed the face of a cat.

"This, everybody, is Lord Tubbington. Lord Tubbington, this is..." Brittany walked over to Quinn, who was nearest, "Quinn, Emma, and Amy and Artie and Sam and…"

Brittany went through each of them individually, angling the cat awkwardly downwards so that everyone got to pat him. Santana was the last to be introduced, and by the time Brittany got to her, the cat looked severely disgruntled and was flicking its tail menacingly. After Santana had hesitantly reached out and stroked its head, Brittany grinned encouragingly and looked down at Lord Tubbington, hitching him upwards in her arms.

"This is Santana, T, I told you about her remember? All about how pretty she is, and how funny and nice she is, and how I'm glad we live just down the hall from one another."

Santana froze and then slowly drew her hand away as snickers from the others jumbled around the room. Brittany seemed to have realized that she over stepped, because she let Lord Tubbington down and dusted her front briskly.

"I guess we should get ready for the party, then?" She asked, looking around at them.

"Hell, yeah!" Sugar pumped both her fists in the air and jumped up. "I need to get my party dress on."

"Okay!" Brittany seemed to be encouraged by Sugar's enthusiasm because she let loose an excited grin, and her voice climbed several notches. "Okay, so girls can get dressed in my room upstairs. The boys can use the guest bathroom and room down the hall, and then we'll meet in the middle again!"

There was a jumble of movement as everyone stood up and moved to collect their bags. In all the commotion, Santana stayed on the couch, staring blankly at a photo of a blond haired girl in a stripped blue and white dress, her eyes closed, her lashes fanning over her cheeks and her nose and mouth covered by the sunflower she was sniffing.

Santana wanted to pick it up and hold it close to her face and map out every detail of the young face. She wanted to so badly it ached. But then Sam and Mike blocked her view as they jostled together and goofed around.

"Coming, San?"

Brittany was turned to her, a small, pensive smile playing on her lips. Santana nodded and got up to follow her.

* * *

><p>Santana stood in front of the mirror in Brittany's bedroom and smoothed her damp palms down the front of her black cocktail dress. She had twisted her hair to the side in a low ponytail and made her eyes all smoky and her lips bright red. It was her 'get hot, feel better' routine that usually worked like a charm. But, then, in front of Brittany's mirror with all the other girls buzzing around the room behind her, she felt odd and uncomfortable.<p>

She raised her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time to the frame of the mirror, which was completely plastered with photographs. Some Santana recognized as copies of the ones on Brittany's wall at the boarding house, but others were new. There was one of Brittany when she was younger- gap toothed and heavily freckled, holding a baby awkwardly in her arms. Santana guessed it was her little sister, who they hadn't met because she was in school camp. The other picture that caught Santana's eye was one right beside her head. It was a picture of a guy with hair in tightly curled ringlets. His upturned nose and wide smile reminded Santana vaguely of the vampire dude in Twilight. His grey eyes were looking sideways to where his left cheek was being squashed in by Brittany's kiss. The photo looked recent, but Santana had never seen it before- not even on Facebook.

Santana lowered her eyes carefully from it before her thoughts started racing ahead of her, collecting jealousy and assumptions along for the ride. She regarded herself in the mirror again and noticed Quinn hovering behind her, watching her. Their eyes met through the mirror and then Santana turned around.

"I'm done," she muttered, "it's all yours."

Quinn gave a short nod and stepped up to the mirror, her eyes drifting over the photographs too.

"Who's that?"

Santana looked to where Quinn was pointing- the curly haired guy again. Quinn looked back over her shoulder for Santana's reaction and Santana shrugged. Quinn frowned at her.

"Well, that's a first," she murmured, turning back to the mirror and sweeping her bangs into place.

Santana watched her with her eyes narrowed.

"What is?" she asked.

"You not knowing everything there is to know about Brittany."

Santana stilled, her eyes unmoving from Quinn's reflection.

"Don't be stupid," she said softly.

Quin shrugged, and her eyes played over Santana's for a moment before she switched them back to focus on her hair.

"Santaaaannnnaaa!" Sugar's voice blared through the room from the door. She was dressed in a hot pink mini dress and fluffy bobbles were being used to pull her hair up into two pig tails. When she caught sight of Santana she gestured vigorously.

"Brittany wants you in the bathroom to help her with her nails."

"If she wants someone good at nails Emma should go," Amy said. Rachel, who was standing over Amy, swiping her face with a foundation pad, shushed her.

"Would you keep still?" She asked exasperatedly, angling Amy's head back to where she wanted it. "And don't worry, Emma," she called out to stop Emma, who was going towards the door, "Britt said she wanted to Santana."

Santana was too wired with suspicion to react to the encouraging smile Rachel directed at her. Instead she dropped her eyes to the floor and walked as casually as possible towards the bathroom.

When she opened the door, she found Brittany cross legged on the floor, bits of golden wrapping paper strewn everywhere, and the constellation picture book Santana had given her open in her lap. She was trailing her fingers lightly over the picture that mapped out the Lyra constellation, and it was only at the sound of Santana closing the door behind her that made her look up. Her eyes were shining curiously, almost like she was delirious, or close to tears. Santana gave her a small smile and stayed by the door, feeling all muddled and embarrassed.

"This is my_favorite_present," Brittany said, placing her palm flat against the page.

Santana stepped forwards and lowered herself onto the tiles in front of Brittany.

"That's a little presumptuous, isn't it?" She joked. "You haven't opened anyone else's yet."

Brittany tilted her head and looked fondly down at the book again.

"No, it's just one of those things I know for sure."

"I'm glad you like it," Santana said, a hint of awkwardness in her voice.

"I love it," Brittany corrected, looking up with a grin. She leaned over and extended her face towards Santana until her lips connected warmly with the side of her cheek.

Santana was only smiling for a moment, however, until she remembered the picture of the boy up on Brittany's mirror.

"Who is the boy you're kissing in the photo on your mirror?" She blurted out. The question was so abrupt that Brittany drew away, frowning.

"Which photo?" She asked. "I don't think I'm kissing anyone in any photos."

"Yeah, you are," Santana interrupted. "He has curly hair, and you're kissing him here," she tapped her cheek. The cloud of confusion lingered on Brittany's face a fraction longer, but then it cleared, and she drew back with a breath of understanding.

"Oh, _Josh! _That's Josh in the photo."

"Josh…okay…that's… really helpful," Santana said, fighting to keep the edge of annoyance out of her voice. Brittany pouted at her.

"_Josh. _Come on, you know Josh? I'm sure I've told you about him. He plays Chess with those timer things, and I always brag about him to everyone."

"Never heard of him," Santana shrugged.

"Oh, that's okay," Brittany waved a dismissive hand, "he'll be at the party later anyway so you'll get to meet him. Now, could you please draw it?" She held out her arm, forearm upwards and produced a vial of bright yellow nail polish.

"Draw what?" Santana asked, taking the nail polish and eyeing Brittany's arm, where she could see the thin shadow of veins under her skin.

"The constellation." Brittany twisted the book around on her lap so that Santana could see the picture more clearly.

"Lyra. It has one of the brightest stars in the sky." Brittany pointed to the diagram on the page. "Make sure you make it the biggest one."

Fighting a smile, Santana took Brittany's arm and brought it gently forwards so it was resting on the side of her folded knee. Then she unscrewed the nail polish, dipped the brush in, and, switching her eyes back and forth between the picture and Brittany's arm, making sure she got the angles and the placement just right. Brittany stayed very still until Santana had drawn the last, and largest dot, then she pulled it away and twisted her arm this way and that, trying to see it from every possible angle.

"It's a bit wonky," Santana admitted, but Brittany shook her head and pressed her lips together, stifling a beaming smile.

She leaned forward, and this time, her lips found Santana's, not her cheek.

"That's how they're supposed to be," she murmured.

* * *

><p>Brittany's mom and dad had turned the garage into a wonderland with fairy lights and pink sheets hanging around the walls. A table stood against one wall, dressed in a white lace tablecloth with a bowl of punch and plates of nibbles.<p>

When all the boarding house girls had finished getting ready (Sugar held them all up when she tried to paint glitter stars onto her red fingernails), they filed downstairs and met the Andrews' boys at the bottom before heading towards the garage.

As they entered the passage, which led to the garage side door, the voices of the people inside became a loud jumble of noises and the thud of music interspersed between them. Rachel went inside first, and Santana followed behind her.

The place was crowded, that was the first thing that Santana noticed, and then she saw Brittany through the strangers, her back to them, setting a newly opened birthday card on one of the benches.

When she turned around and caught sight of them her face broke into a beaming smile and she wound her way towards them.

"Drinks and food are over there," she gestured one way, "the toilet is over behind you and the outside is behind that big door." She pointed to the garage door.

Everyone snickered at this, but Brittany's excitement was buoyant, and she skipped over to a girl and a guy who were close by. She took them both by the hand, directing them back over to everyone else.

Santana recognized them both from the photos. The boy was Josh- his nose and grin and tight curls giving him away almost instantly. He was good looking- better than his photograph- and as Santana took in his grin something hardened in her chest. The girl on Brittany's other side was in most of the photos Brittany had up on her wall at the boarding house. She, like Brittany, had blonde hair and blue eyes. But the blonde was more a peroxide color, and her eyes were set wider apart- almost too wide. She regarded them with a small, reserved smile.

Brittany went through the boarding girls and boys one by one, introducing them to Josh and Becky. When it got to her turn, Santana smiled vaguely between Josh and Becky, feeling their eyes on her. She wondered briefly what they knew, but they didn't linger any longer before they moved on to Emma, who was introduced next.

Gradually, everyone interspersed throughout the garage to get drinks and start dancing. Santana ended up being dragged onto the dance floor with Quinn, Amy and Brittany. Several of the boys joined them and Santana ended up across the circle from Brittany. This position allowed her to appreciate _just _how good of a dancer Brittany was. Santana could see very clearly why Coach Sylvester had chosen her to choreograph the Cheerios' routines. She came alive in the movement of the music, and was as far from the bubbly, skipping girl that she usually was. There was an elegance to her movements, a flow, a sexiness. She threaded her hands through her hair so that it hung loose and dishevelled around her face. Santana could hardly look at her, and every time she did, Brittany's eyes would catch her own, and something would pass between them- so thick and heavy Santana could feel her stomach hitch as the memories of their nights alone rolled over her.

Eventually, Sugar squeezed into the circle beside Santana, tugging her towards the snack table and swooping in upon the plate of spring rolls like a bird of prey. Santana backed away, explaining that she wasn't hungry, but Sugar managed to wrangle her into getting her own plate of spring rolls, which would act as Sugar's seconds. She led Santana over to a nearby couple of chairs and proceeded to stuff them unceremoniously into her mouth, moaning, occasionally, in pleasure. Santana sat stiffly, holding her extra plate, trying to locate Brittany in the crowd. She hadn't got far through her scan of the room when Sugar batted her arm and took the second plate off her.

"Honestly, these are so great," she mumbled with her mouth full. "If I could only put one thing in my mouth for the rest of my life it would be these."

Santana processed her words without comment, but shot Sugar a raised eyebrow look, which she disregarded with a roll of her eyes.

Sugar was halfway through the second plate when Mercedes approached, out of breath and smiling. She settled heavily in the seat on Sugar's other side and promptly stole one of the spring rolls from Sugar's plate.

"Britt has nice friends," she said happily. "Josh is so nice; and Becky and Quinn are bonding, look." She pointed through the crowd to the chairs on the opposite wall. Santana leaned sideways to see through the people, to Quinn and, sure enough, Becky. They had their chairs angled towards one another, leaning close and talking intently, Quinn's eyes were darting all around Becky's face. She looked hungry for information.

"What are they talking about?" Santana asked, carefully keeping her voice casual and disinterested.

Mercedes shrugged, "something about Britt, I think," she said thickly, munching through a second stolen spring roll.

Sugar sent Mercedes a filthy look and stood up abruptly, moving away from them towards the food table once again.

Santana took a breath, preparing herself for the awkward encounter alone with Mercedes, and scrambling for an excuse to get up and go somewhere else, when, quite unexpectedly, she was saved by the appearance of Quinn, who took Sugar's seat with a cheerful hello.

Immediately, Mercedes pounced on her for details about Becky.

"She's nice," Quinn said, shrugging with an air of self-importance. Santana looked pointedly away, unwilling to satisfy Quinn with her curiosity.

"We talked mostly about Josh and Britt," Quinn added, her voice still angled with that smugness. Santana's head stilled in the opposite direction of Quinn and Mercedes, but she heard Mercedes give a small, excited gasp.

"And?" She prompted Quinn.

There was a pause, which Santana listened to with what felt like all the hearing capabilities she possessed. And even though the room was full of voices and music, Quinn's pause seemed the loudest by far.

"They definitely _did_ date, a few years back. And Becky said they would have gotten back together again if it hadn't been for Brittany moving to Alexandra."

"Really? O-oh, I'm pretty sure Britt said they were just good friends." Mercedes attempt to divert the situation was flattened by the shaky hesitance in her voice. Santana sat, unmoving and useless, her eyes fixed on a cracked red plastic box under one of the garage benches. The sound of Quinn's words had stilled her outwardly, but strung up a storm inside of her. The worst thing was, she knew Mercedes, with her awkward bumbling explanations, was trying to discretely spare Santana's feelings- the feelings, which Santana had concentrated every scrap of energy in pretending that no one else knew about.

She got up off her chair much more calmly than she had anticipated and, feeling like the world had hazed over, she moved through the crowd of people towards the side door of the garage where they'd all first come from.

With the party muted by both the pounding in her ears and by the closed side door, Santana felt her previously constricted breathing ease. Even though she hadn't even touched the alcohol available, she still felt like the world was wafting past her as she walked down the passage way and out the back door to Brittany's yard. It was dark, but the bottom of her house was lined with little round lights that cast yellow arches across the grass. Santana headed sideways- towards the sturdy looking trunk of a tree. She leaned her back against it and stared towards the slither of light coming through the narrow windows of the garage. It was as though it was the only part of the house alive- throbbing with noise and energy and light, while the rest of the house was dark and quiet.

Up in the hum and whirl of the garage, no one would give a second thought to the dark, damp smelling space in which Santana stood. The knowledge of this made her feel safe and it gave her a fragile sense of control, which she clung to. If she could only somehow fashion some sort of mask- to dull all her feelings and reactions to anything that happened during the night. She knew she would need it; she couldn't come rushing out to the garden every time someone enjoyed gossiping about Brittany's pre-Alexandra self.

Santana remembered all the masks she'd had to make the year previously about Liv. Towards the end it had gotten so bad that Santana had to practically shrink in on herself whenever Liv opened her mouth- for fear of hearing anything that would make bitterness jolt through her like the recoil of a gun against her chest. Santana remembered the masking ritual- the deep breath, the mental checking out, the 'happy place' she'd devised at some point that she couldn't place precisely. The happy place, oddly enough, was her elder cousin Shay's tree house. This was strange because the most striking memory Santana had of that place was getting a splinter in her left butt cheek when she was 8, and having to be held down while her tía dug it out with a needle. Still, something about the coolness and the surrounding safeguard of the leaves and the ladder which could be drawn up inside the hut so that no intruders found their way in, related well to Santana's need to mentally escape.

She was in the midst of trying to recall exactly how the inside of the tree house had looked when the distinct whine and clatter of Brittany's back door made Santana jump and look around.

Mercedes was making her way down the garden path, her shadow warped and jagged in the dipping half circles of light. She looked briefly at Santana, but concentrated mostly on picking her way across towards her. Once she was close enough, she glanced up again and their eyes met. Santana could see the concern on her face, and she hastily composed her own face into a look of disdain.

"I'm okay," she said shortly, before Mercedes could speak. She pushed up off the tree trunk to walk away, but Mercedes stepped in her path and shook her head.

Her attempt to speak was interrupted, however, by the sound of the back door opening for the second time. Santana looked up to the two figures that had crowded onto the start of the path and were making their way towards them. The briskness of her walk gave Rachel away before her face was illuminated by the garden lights, and Santana knew by the slope of the second figures legs and the jump of her own heartbeat that it was Brittany behind her.

No one spoke while they approached, but Rachel nodded efficiently to Mercedes as they drew up level with her. Both Rachel and Brittany wore the same frown of concern as Mercedes. Santana licked her lips and flicked her eyes to the grass at her feet, before attempting an awkward laugh as a last minute resort to lighten the situation.

It died in her throat abruptly when Brittany stepped forwards and gently took Santana's hand, threading their fingers together. Santana gave Brittany a dark look of shock and tried to pull away, but Brittany held on, and with a soft nudge of her elbow, she nodded towards Mercedes and Rachel.

Santana drew her gaze, which felt like it weighed a ton, over to their faces. The identical assuring grins she saw jolted surprise through her.

"I was going to tell you not to be stupid about Josh and Britt, but Rachel figured that Britt could do it better herself," Mercedes said, the grin fully taking over her face. "Your face right now, by the way, Santana, is priceless."

Santana immediately put her expression of shock in check, giving them a warning frown instead. But instead of having the affect Santana desired- and getting across the fact that she would rather be anywhere else than having this conversation- it merely made the others laugh- including Brittany, who leaned her forehead against Santana's temple and let out a small giggle in her ear.

"Really, it's fine, Santana," Rachel said. "Of course, Mercedes and I were shocked and a little confused at first. But we quickly came to terms with it after talking to Brittany a couple of days ago. And we also promise to act with the utmost discretion about it."

It was certainly news to Santana that Brittany had talked to Mercedes and Rachel about what they'd seen, and she turned to Brittany with a sharp look.

"You talked to them?"

Brittany raised her eyebrows, amusement still tugging at the corners of her lips.

"They asked, and so I told them. But I knew telling you I'd told them would just make you all mad and assume-y."

"Assume-y?" Santana repeated.

Brittany nodded, her expression becoming more serious and sure.

"Brittany that's not a word," Rachel added helpfully. Mercedes shushed her.

"You'd, you'd assume," Brittany corrected herself, not looking away from Santana, "that they'd tell everyone and be weird. But by not telling you I gave them a chance to be neither of those things and they weren't so it worked out okay, don't you think?"

"Oh, and," Rachel stepped forwards slightly, drawing their attention to her, "Brittany has assured us that her attachment to Josh has only ever been a one sided romance on his part, and that she only see's him as a good friend whereas with you, she…"

"Okay, Rachel," Mercedes interjected, glancing nervously at Santana's face, which Santana had angled in her most hostile scowl, "I think Britt can take it from here."

She led a protesting Rachel away, back down the path. Santana watched them until the door whined closed again before she turned her eyes to Brittany.

"I don't know how to feel about what you did," she said slowly.

Brittany had the grace to look apologetic, but her words came out in a contradictory manner.

"If you don't know how to feel it usually means you feel one way but want to feel a different way. So you might want to be mad at me for talking to them, but you really aren't because you know that it's better if we all know what's going on."

Santana stared at Brittany, admitting inwardly that she was right. She had hardly any time to think of how to admit that with words so as to not damage her pride when Brittany spoke again.

"And Rachel is right about Josh. He's nothing, not compared to you. He's…he's…" She hesitated for the words, but her face lit up as she struck upon and idea. Santana watched as she upturned her arm in between them, pointing at the Lyra constellation on her skin that Santana had drawn earlier.

"He's that one," she pointed to the smallest dot at the bottom angle of the constellation. "And you're…here."

She was pointing to the largest yellow spot of nail polish, which depicted the largest and most famous star of the Lyra constellation. Santana remembered that its name was Vega. She also remembered that was the fifth brightest star in the sky.

The smile came naturally to her face, and she didn't fight it away, instead she stepped closer to Brittany and tugged her into a kiss. Brittany gave a happy hum against Santana's lips, and curled her arms around Santana's back so they pressed harder against one another.

Then Santana's hands were up in Brittany's soft hair, and along the curve of her jaw, angling it so that she could let the hotness of her tongue coax a rippled moan from Brittany's throat.

Their kiss was not so far along however that Santana was completely consumed by it, and she was able to pick up on the vague sounds of movement coming from down the path. Half amused, half prickled with annoyance, Santana pulled out of this kiss and looked down the path.

"You can stop perving now Rachel, thank you very much," she snapped playfully.

The figure coming down the path towards them froze, at exactly the same time as Brittany, pressed so hard up against Santana, stiffened as well.

The face illuminated wasn't Rachel, or Mercedes. It was pale like Brittany's and had the same color eyes as Brittany. Except they were slightly too far apart, and widened in horror.

* * *

><p>Stationary in the middle of the path, Becky looked like someone had punched her in the stomach. She blinked very slowly several times and then began stumbling backwards towards the door.<p>

"Bex, no. Wait," Brittany started, pulling away from Santana with an apologetic look and hurrying after Becky. Becky ignored her calls and continued inside. Brittany, without a second look at Santana, followed.

Left alone in the now deafening, isolating silence of the yard, Santana leaned back against the trunk of the tree and put her head into her hands. The several shaky breaths she gulped in weren't enough to stifle the rising tide of her panic.

She pushed away from the tree and blindly started towards the house, blearily reasoning that getting back inside would make it all less crazy. If she could disappear into the crowd and find Kurt or Sam or someone to distract her she could handle it, she could handle not knowing what was going on with Brittany, and what she was saying to abate the look of disgust that had been so plain on Becky's face.

Santana had just reached the door when it burst open, almost hitting her square in the face.

"Shit," she exclaimed in fright as Mercedes and Rachel appeared on the path in front of her. They both looked wide-eyed and panicked.

"What? What's going on?" Santana asked, her own panic taking over. She looked from one to the other, wishing that they'd both stop looking at her with all the panic.

"We were going to ask you that," Mercedes said, "Becky came back into the garage telling everyone who'd listen that she'd seen Britt making out with a girl."

"Yes, and then Brittany came in trying to get her to talk about it somewhere else and I'm half certain that Brittany's parents got involved too," Rachel added.

Rather than stare at their faces, Santana fixed her gaze on the air between their heads, like she'd done when she was introduced to Josh and Becky. She could hardly process what had happened, except to fixate on the fact that it only seemed like a few moments had passed since Becky had seen them. The speed with which everything had shifted was the thing that Santana was struggling with.

She felt the sudden urge to laugh at the complete turn of events, but the sound died bitterly in her throat. Gently, Rachel took her by the arm.

"Come on, we'll get you upstairs and you can sleep in the guest bedroom with us. The boys can have the sitting room."

"What about Britt?" Santana said. Her voice sounded like it was coated in cotton wool- indistinct and weak.

Mercedes and Rachel hesitated, and shot one another a look. Santana shook her head.

"No. No, don't do that. What? What happened?"

"Her- Her parents are talking to her I think. They- they took her into the sitting room," Rachel said, her voice soft as though she was trying to coat the information with calmness. Santana felt anything but calm, and tried to push her way between them.

"Where the hell is that Bex girl? I think I should have a word with that piece of crap." She was half shouting, and it was enough to make Rachel let go of her and back away slightly. Mercedes however, stood her ground.

"No, come on, Santana. You hardly know her. There's nothing you can say that would stop her acting like an idiot."

"So, where is she?" Santana spat, trying to trick step to get around Mercedes. She grappled Santana's upper arms and held her still.

"Come on, Santana, you've been drinking and..."

Santana tore herself away and took several steps backwards rage swelling in her violently.

"I'm not drunk, for fuck's sake Mercedes. I just want to talk some sense into her before she screws up this whole thing for Britt."

"That won't help," Mercedes persisted, almost pleading. "Please, just come inside and let all the drama die down before anyone talks to anyone."

Santana regarded Mercedes, realizing her mistake almost at once. The look in Mercedes eyes was resolute, and Santana knew that she wasn't going to get to Bex without a fight. Giving an over-exaggerated sigh, Santana prised her limbs from Mercedes grasp and stepped back, holding up her hands in surrender.

"Fine, fine. I won't try and talk to her."

"Spare room?" Rachel ventured meekly.

Before Santana had a chance to respond, Mercedes nodded and gestured for Santana to start them back down the path towards the back door.

Going back inside the house wasn't exactly a comforting feeling for Santana. The lowered volume of music coming from inside the garage was disconcerting, and the apparent lack of talking didn't help either.

They didn't encounter anyone on their way to the spare bedroom- not until they passed the ominously closed sitting room door and found Lauren hovering around it.

She jumped when she heard them come up behind her, and pressed a finger hurriedly up to her lips to quieten them, even before they'd made any noise.

"Britt and her parents are in there," Lauren whispered. "I was just..."

"Spying?" Rachel asked. Surprisingly, her tone was one of encouragement rather than disapproval. Lauren, hearing this, shrugged and became business like.

"It was Sugar's idea. They're all still in the garage wondering what the hell is going on. And the fact that I have less than useful eyesight means that I've had to adapt so one of my senses is stronger- my hearing. So I was dispatched, if you will, to get the low down."

"So no one knows what happened? Tell me what you know." Santana's voice was oddly strangled. She was surprising even herself with this plain request for the unflinching truth, but she surged forwards, willing Lauren to wipe the awkward look off her face and talk.

It was even more surprising when Lauren fixed her with a look of incredulity and shrugged.

"Something about making out. Two girls. Hard to decipher, though. Hence the whole…me spying thing."

Santana stared at Lauren, unsure if she should take her seriously or not.

"Was Britt mad?" She asked, inwardly cringing at the timidness in her own voice.

Again Lauren shrugged.

"She was whisked away pretty quick by her parents. And I think…" She paused and craned her head closer to the door for a moment. "I think Becky is in there too." Then her face lit up as she appraised all three of them.

"Hold on…do you three know what's going on?"

There was an awkward pause, and Santana saw Mercedes and Rachel shoot one another a significant glance, before shifting their attention to her. She kept silent, but dropped her eyes to the floor. Mercedes and Rachel understood this as a wordless consent to tell Lauren.

"Well, what Becky saw was... erm…" Rachel trailed off. After a pause, Mercedes picked up.

"She saw Brittany and Santana making out. In…in the yard."

The silence that followed was long, ominous. Santana didn't think she'd ever studied tiles as hard in her life. She knew she'd always remember the bronze hue and the golden patterning in them.

"Oh," Lauren said finally. There was a hint of humour in her voice that made Santana jerked her head up sharply in astonishment. Lauren's eyebrows were raised, and her mouth was twisted to stop a smile.

"What?" Santana snapped, unable to quite believe what was happening.

"It's just that I owe Tina 5 bucks."

Lauren took one look at the expression on Santana's face and nearly cracked under the pressure of her laughter.

"You what?" Rachel asked, "why?"

"Coz we- we placed bets when we heard her yelling about Britt making out with a girl. And Tina bet Santana."

Santana felt herself flush heavily.

"Who did you bet?" She asked, before she could help herself.

"Quinn," Lauren said with a shrug. "She wasn't around when all this went down. But it turned out she was just in the bathroom. Having far less fun than you were, I'm guessing."

"Wh-what…" Mercedes spluttered, but Santana was shaking her head.

"You think this is some fucking joke?" She spat.

"Wh- No," Lauren blinked.

"Really? Because if you fucking breathe a word to…"

"Santana," Rachel said warningly, "lower your voice."

Santana, becoming almost incensed, rounded on Rachel.

"Rachel, for once, would you please just shut your mouth? You have no idea what the hell you're talking about and…"

Santana halted her words abruptly as the door to the sitting room opened and Mr Pierce poked his head out, looking strained. His eyes darted around them all, dropping hastily away from Santana when he saw her.

"Uh, girls, would you mind taking your conversation else where. This isn't such a great time."

"Mr Pierce," Rachel stepped forward earnestly, assuming the polite, slightly manic voice she used to condescend teachers, "please, we were just wondering if we could have a very, very quick word to Brittany and then we will leave you to get on with your business. I just think…"

But Rachel trailed away as Mr Pierce began to shake his head resolutely.

"It's not a good time girls. Please, we'd rather Brittany not be influenced any further and we want the truth out of her before anyone else has the chance to…" He hesitated, dropping his eyes to the ring on his finger, which he had been twirling compulsively, "er…put words in her mouth."

"Please, Mr Pierce," Rachel was becoming insistent, "please can we just…can Santana just…"

At the sound of Santana's name, Mr Pierce looked up suddenly, straight into Rachel's face. His expression was cold, and his voice was a similar temperature.

"Neither we, nor Brittany, consider it a good idea for Santana to be involved anymore than she has been. I'm sorry, but I have to get back now. Please make yourselves comfortable. We'll be out to organize the winding down of the party soon."

He turned abruptly and shut the sitting room door practically in Rachel's face, leaving a stunned, strained silence in his wake. Santana was almost numb with the shock of his words, but gradually she became aware of the other's eyes on her.

"I'm going to bed," she mumbled automatically, turning on her heel and walking towards where she remembered the guest bedroom to be. None of her things were in there, in fact, it was probably full of the boys' things, but ever since Mercedes and Rachel suggested it, it had become like a safe haven for her. She was vaguely aware of the others following her, but it wasn't until she found the room and curled herself onto one corner of the bed did she bother to tell them that she wanted to be alone. And even then, they all ignored her tear stained voice and dropped onto the bed with her- Mercedes on one side, Rachel on the other and Lauren laying down by her feet.

Santana could hold back the tears, she could, she knew. But she needed to concentrate everything she had on doing it. She braced herself, tensed all her muscles against the force of her feelings. But then Rachel put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, and it was enough to take the edge off of Santana's control. She buried her head in the pillow, and began to sob.


	15. Tethered Mind

**Here we go. Thanks to my insanely cool beta **********T97Carolina. I look forward to hearing what you all think. Any questions- you know the drill: **lumosknoxobliviate. tumblr ask**************

**Chapter 14: Tethered Mind**

Santana woke up with a sore throat and a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She woke up waiting for the dream to give way to reality. But when she opened her eyes she saw that same roof with the same unfamiliar light fixtures that she remembered from before she'd fallen asleep. A crushing sense of disappointment filled her; the night before had not been a dream...or she'd dreamed it and lived it at the same time.

From her spot in the middle of the bed she could still feel the warmth of Mercedes, Rachel, and Lauren. They were whispering, and as she gathered consciousness she managed to make out Tina's voice that was doing the majority of the talking in a low, urgent voice.

"...It's super awkward downstairs," she was saying, "everyone's all quiet and weird, and all her old friends left the party after Britt's parents took her aside."

"But like...why did it come as such a shock to them?" Mercedes wondered, "They don't even know Santana, so why would they care that she was caught kissing Brittany? I mean it should come as no surprise to them that Britt likes girls. It says so on her Facebook."

"Quinn asked Becky the same thing," Tina interjected quickly, "and apparently everyone just assumed it was just Britt being Britt and that she didn't know what 'Interested In' actually meant."

"They have to give her some credit," Rachel scoffed, "the girl may be...erm... quirky, but that by no means qualifies her as someone with such a rudimentary understanding of colloquialisms that she gets 'Interested In' confused."

"Calm down, Freud," Lauren deadpanned. "It's completely understandable that they all assumed Brittany just meant interested in people. The girl sleeps with stuffed animals for crying out loud."

"So do I," Rachel argued.

Lauren's voice was smug, "I rest my case."

"Well, whatever they thought, I can tell you it came as a big surprise," Tina continued, "to Britt's parents especially. They had us all sleep in the lounge and Britt had to sleep alone in her room. They're booking a bus home for Santana this morning, instead of Sunday with the rest of us."

Santana intended on keeping quiet and feigning sleep until she gathered how bad it had all gotten over night, but Tina's last piece of information made her breath catch. Noticeably so, it seemed, because Tina stopped talking suddenly. Santana guessed that the game was up and opened her eyes, twisting onto her back.

"Oh, Santana, morning," Rachel bumbled, embarrassed. "Did...did you sleep okay?"

Santana nodded automatically and then fixed Tina with a frank look which she hoped would encourage truthfulness.

"Does Brittany want me gone?"

Tina looked hesitant. "I don't know, Santana. I'm sorry. None of us have really seen her, or had a chance to speak to her."

There was silence as Santana sat, struggling to reign in the emotions that had flared up inside her. Carefully, Rachel reached out and patted Santana's shoulder.

"I'll get the bus back with you," she said.

"Me too," said Mercedes.

Santana was about to protest, but Lauren shook her head. "So will I. I guess you can let the folks in charge know?"

Tina glanced around them all and nodded. "Yeah, that's…that's probably the best idea. And I can keep you guys updated through text."

It was hardly ideal but Santana guessed it was better than nothing. Still, it paled in comparison to what Santana wanted to do most, which was talk to Brittany, or even just to see her. Somehow, Santana knew she would be able to cope with the others knowing- all of them- so long as Brittany was there to cope with it too.

Santana kept having flashes of Brittany crying alone in her room, or of her parents forbidding her to ever come back to Alexandra. Those thoughts were skin-run-cold material, and Santana shoved them resolutely towards the back of her mind. She needn't have worried about a distraction, however, because Tina held out her fist and opened her fingers out to Santana.

"I found it downstairs in the garage," she said, wincing apologetically.

Numbly, Santana took the mangled bit of plastic and broken glass that had once been her phone and turned it over in her palms.

"Did you drop it?" Rachel asked.

"No…" Santana said slowly, trying to remember when the last time she'd had it was. "I think…I thought I left it on a shelf near my chair where Sugar and I were sitting."

"I found it last night after everyone had left," Tina said.

Mercedes took it gently from Santana's hands and tried the 'on' button. When nothing happened she looked up and shrugged apologetically.

"Someone must have stood on it on accident," she tried.

Santana was still looking at the phone.

"Or on purpose," she muttered.

"Oh, come on, Santana," Rachel said jovially, "surely no one would want to do that. Mistakes happen all the time especially with alcohol involved."

"Well someone must have accidentally stepped extremely hard," Lauren deadpanned, cocking her head at the phone, "because that thing looks like it's been on the Hiroshima end of an atomic bomb."

Santana laughed humourlessly at Rachel's audible reproach and Lauren's self-defensive cry of: "What? What did I say? Tina isn't Japanese so it doesn't matter!"

"Calm down, everyone," Mercedes said, shooting a nervous glance towards the bedroom door. "We don't want things to get any worse for Santana."

"She's been making out with their daughter," Lauren said dryly, "I don't think it gets much worse than that."

Despite the awful truth of Lauren's statement, hearing it being addressed out loud so casually felt surprisingly good.

"Sorry, Santana," Lauren said for good measure, but Santana shook her head. "No, you're right," she said. She ran her hands gingerly through her hair, trying to untangle its sleepy bird's nest.

"I guess I should pack?" She ventured, looking around. "Where are my bags?"

"They must be still in Brittany's room," Rachel said, "I'll go get them for you."

She bustled towards the door but had barely opened it when she gasped and stepped back.

"What?" Mercedes leant around the bed and Santana stretched up higher on her elbow as Rachel bent down and picked up Santana's duffel.

"It's…here…" She said, bringing it to the bed and placing it down gingerly.

Eyeing it, equally weary, Santana sat fully upright and tugged it, with some effort, onto her lap. It was obvious just by its weight that someone had collected all her clothes- which she'd left discarded around Brittany's room before the party - and put them back in the bag. What Santana was not expecting, however, was what she found when she unzipped the bag and pulled the sides apart. Every piece of clothing was perfectly folded, nestled neatly into her bag like she'd never unpacked it at all.

* * *

><p>Returning to the boarding house that afternoon was surreal for Santana. She'd started off the weekend with a finicky nervousness in the pit of her stomach, and to have it all unravel was almost too inevitable to be true.<p>

Santana never got to see Brittany as she, Mercedes, Rachel and Lauren got ready to leave. Luckily, Mercedes paid for a taxi to the bus stop so Santana didn't have to endure a supremely awkward car ride with one of Brittany's parents.

On the bus, all three of them took turns sitting next to Santana, who pressed her pillow up against the window and tried her best to sleep through their almost constant questions about whether she was okay. And, by the time they got back to the boarding house on Saturday afternoon, Santana was at the end of her tether. She quickened her stride away from them as they entered the empty dorm and arrived at her room with relief. She'd barely finished unpacking her bag, however, when they appeared in her doorway armed with Mercedes laptop and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn.

"Not now," Santana murmured, bending as far as she could into her wardrobe to hang her coat, in the hopes that they'd leave.

"But," Rachel pouted, "I've organised a selection of movies that I'd prefer to watch, and I have generously agreed to let you pick which one we watch first."

"No, thanks," Santana started, standing up out of her closet and looking around at them. Mercedes had plonked herself firmly on Santana's bed, wriggled back against the wall and pulled up the end blanket to cover herself, and, on the other end, Lauren had done the same. Santana realized getting rid of them was hopeless, and with a sigh, she shut her wardrobe doors and stepped back to let Rachel pass to put the laptop on her desk.

They ended up watching the animated Pocahontas because all the other films on Rachel's list were either musicals or so old Santana had never heard of them. While they watched, Santana borrowed Mercedes phone to text her mom and tell her about her phone being broken and her needing a new one. Never one to adhere to Santana's wishes, her mom ignored the beginning of Santana's text, which read: 'don't call, watching a movie', and lit up Mercedes phone with an incoming call.

Santana answered as Rachel hit 'pause' on the movie.

"Mom, I told you not to…"

"Hello, Santana." Santana blanched, momentarily stunned by the deepness her mother's voice had acquired. It took a split second before she clicked on to who it actually was.

"Dad," she stuttered, "Dad, hi."

"How much do you need?"

"Huh?"

"For a new phone."

"Uh…" Santana hesitated, gauging the confusing monotone of her father's voice. He didn't sound amused but then…he didn't really sound angry.

"Will $350 cover it?"

Santana paused again, stunned.

"Santana?" Her father prompted, his voice sharp with concern.

"Wh- Yeah, uh, yeah Dad, that's- that'd be more than enough."

"Good, okay. I'll transfer that through tomorrow."

Santana hung up and handed the phone blankly back to Mercedes, staring into space near her window.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked, frowning at her. Slowly, Santana drew her eyes back to focus on the computer screen.

"Nothing, Dad's just being…weird."

"You think he knows?" Rachel asked sharply.

Santana shook her head, shrugged and then shook her head again.

"Maybe," she muttered.

"I don't think they would have gone so far as to call your parents, would they?" Mercedes looked worriedly between Santana and Rachel, who shook her head vehemently.

"That's illegal," she said firmly.

Mercedes snorted, "No, it's not."

"Well it should be," Rachel said huffily. "It's not peoples' right to just suppose they can divulge that sort of sensitive information about another person. It's…it's…oh!" Santana watched as Rachel's expression squirmed into one of discomfort. She hurriedly stood up and turned to look back down at the space of bed she'd just vacated. Rachel's phone was in the wrinkles where her butt had just been, vibrating with an incoming call. Rachel snatched it up and stared at the screen.

"It's Quinn," she whispered, scandalised.

Santana felt her insides twist in anticipation.

"Answer it!" Lauren urged, her mouth stuffed full of popcorn.

Hesitantly, Rachel raised the phone to her face like it was a bomb about to explode.

"Huh-Hello, Rachel Barbra Berry speaking….Yes, hello Quinn I…"

There was a pause, and Santana guessed from the indistinct babble of noise coming from the other end of the line that Quinn had interrupted Rachel.

"Loud speaker," Mercedes whispered frantically, gesturing at the phone.

Rachel shook her head slightly at Mercedes and frowned.

"Santana's fine Quinn, you don't need to worry. It's…"

Quinn had interrupted again and Rachel fell silent, listening intently. Beside her, Santana dimly registered Mercedes waving frantically to get Rachel's attention. She was holding her phone up to Rachel's face.

"What is it?" Santana asked, moving forwards and snatching the phone out of Mercedes grasp. She turned it around and read the text on the screen from Tina.

"_Is Quinn calling one of you? Don't tell her anything. She's been after information from everyone. No one knows what's going on but don't let her trick you into telling her what happened. She's already making plans to tell the day-girls." _

Santana felt like all the blood had drained from her face in an odd sensation that left her feeling frozen. As if in slow motion, her limbs reacted for her, reaching out to seize Rachel's phone from her face and jab at the 'disconnect' button.

She watched the screen flash with the message 'call ended' and felt the air ease back into her body. She sat numbly back on the bed and dropped both the phones.

"What was that all about?" Rachel asked, half annoyed, "all she wanted to know is if we planned on taking you to see the school counsellor, which, personally, I don't actually think is such a bad…hey, hey, where are you going? Santana?"

Santana ignored her and let the door of her room bang sharply closed as she walked out into the hallway. She needed something- some sort of release. Something to help her creep away from the suffocating feeling of what was happening.

As she neared the bathroom door, Santana considered taking a long shower, but that would require a towel, which would require going back to her room and facing the others.

Santana veered to the left instead- away from the bathroom and through another door, which led to a small foyer joining the fruit room, the computer room and the door to the stairwell down to the ninth grade dorms.

Santana paused there; taking advantage of its emptiness to try and calm down. Along one wall were two phone booths- completely enclosed and painted blue. Santana guessed that back in the antiquity period, kids used them to call home and blubber to their parents. But since the invention of cell phones the only time they were used was for ordering pizza.

Santana approached the one closest and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The booths were soundproof and small and immediately Santana felt calmer. She slipped down onto the floor and put her feet up on the opposite wall. Even though it was cramped, it made Santana feel safe. She looked around the walls, noting all the scratches and graffiti that had been added over time.

Suddenly, a memory made her sit up almost straight, and the movement of her body made the walls creak sharply. She twisted awkwardly around, skittering the phone set and the heavy stack of phone books across the carpet so she could crane her head into the corner of the booth they'd been covering. Edged right near the corner was a faintly scratched phone number and an inscription in harsh, jagged writing:

_911, for S. _

Santana trailed her fingers over the scratches, marvelling at how, seemingly unconsciously, she'd managed to get herself to the very number that had been given to her when she needed someone.

It had been one of many small rituals that had played out over Liv's final days at the boarding house. They'd gone around, trying to preserve days that seemed so important for some reason that they couldn't quite catch a hold of. They'd both clung to small things- like saving wrappers of candy from the store down the road, and leaving remembrances like the one in the phone booth. Santana couldn't believe she'd forgotten it until now, and she twisted back to get the phone, cluttering it in her lap and picking the receiver off its cradle.

Twisting her head awkwardly to get the numbers right, she dialled. The clattering sounds the buttons made when she pressed them down reminded her briefly of the times she'd played 'office' with the broken home phone at her cousin's house. She focused on that memory to stop herself from hanging up as the phone rang on and on in her ear.

Finally, just when Santana was letting fear get the best of her, and was halfway through putting the receiver back down, she heard the tell tale _click _of someone picking up.

"Hello?"

It was Liv's voice, miniscule because of the distance. Hurriedly, Santana pressed the receiver back to her face.

"Hi," she said, simply. Pathetically.

There was a pause, which seemed to stretch on and on. And then, finally, Liv spoke again, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Didn't think I'd hear from you again so soon."

"It's been like a month," Santana muttered, feeling a sharp tug of resentment as she recalled their last conversation on the trampoline at Mercedes house, under the stars. They'd fought about Brittany, and then Brittany had come and lay next to Santana. Santana closed her eyes to force the memory away.

She realised suddenly that Liv was talking, and though it was almost too late to tune in, Santana caught the back end of the sentence.

"…and I think it's pathetic. I doubt he would go there, though. He's already had enough crazy from you and Quinn."

"What?" Santana asked.

"Puck!" Liv snapped, impatient. "That's what you called about I'm guessing? The rumor that he's screwing an anorexic college girl from ACU?"

"They're all anorexic," Santana said dismissively. "But, no, I didn't know about it."

"So there's nothing…_rekindling _between you two?"

"No," Santana managed, her voice cracking.

"What's wrong?" Liv asked sharply.

Santana hesitated. Her mouth was open, the words were mapped out in her mind, but tears were clogging her voice, making her throat quiver. She knew she couldn't speak, so she made an odd noise, which she hoped would translate to 'I don't know'.

"You're being so weird," Liv said, half amused. Santana grappled for control fighting off tears. The hollow feeling of talking to Liv made everything worse. The person who had managed, somehow, to make everything right so many times before by being flippant and short and witty was making Santana feel ten times worse. The heavy press of tears washing over her was the descent of loneliness- heavy and brooding and hopeless.

""snothing," she managed.

"It's something," Liv said flatly.

"I'm in the phone booth," Santana said, sniffing. She laughed shakily to try and disguise a sob.

On the other end of the phone, Liv laughed too, putting on a brisk voice.

"911, which service do you require?"

"All three," Santana said faintly, but her laughter was more authentic this time around.

"See, two seconds tops and I have you smiling again. Not bad for a 911 service is it?"

It took Santana a split second to realise that Liv was right; she _was _smiling. The tears had edged off and she was able to speak a little more freely.

"Sorry, it's a shit time at the moment."

"I guessed as much," Liv said wryly. "That place is good at wringing people dry emotionally."

"It's not so much this place…"

"I hated it there," Liv interrupted. Her voice was thoughtful. Santana heard her take a drag of a cigarette. "It screws with your head you know, being around that many people constantly with no control over when you get to do what you want. It's actually ridiculous how much they have you guys under wraps. Once you step away you see it for what it really is. You should fucking get out of there S. Come, go to school with me."

"It's not here that's the problem. I don't want to leave. I just… I just don't want anyone else to leave either…" Santana trailed away, and immediately felt stupid for saying it that way.

"That's weird," Liv said, "me leaving scar you up bad did it? Though," she started again after another drag, "it's probably still a cut rather than a scar. Am I right? Don't tell me you've got so attached to that new girl that you're as sad at the thought of her leaving? It took me longer than three months to get you that obsessed with me. Has this blonde chick beaten my record?"

"There's no record," Santana said, bristling, "shut up."

"Oh come on, lighten up and tell me what happened."

"No. I don't wan…"

There was a click and a gush of cool air as the door to the phone booth was wrenched open. Rachel and Mercedes stood in front of her looking flustered.

"Santana, are you alright?"

"Oh my god," Liv was laughing into the speaker. Is that Rachel fucking Berry?"

"Yes," Santana muttered, waving them away. Neither moved.

"Put her on," Liv managed, still laughing.

"No," Santana said, leaning forwards to try and close the door. Mercedes nudged her hand away with her foot and gestured to the cell phone she was holding in her hand.

"You need to see this," she mouthed.

Santana stilled, looking up at her, hardly hearing Liv's continued requests to talk to Rachel.

"Is it bad?"

"It's Artie," Mercedes said.

"Liv," Santana said into the phone again. "I have to go."

"You're a bitch, you know that?"

"Bye, Liv," Santana sighed, moving the phone away.

"Blow kisses to Berry for me!" Liv called.

Santana dropped the phone into its cradle and stood up, taking the phone out of Mercedes hands and looking down at Artie's text.

"_Everyone knows now. We've been sent home without Brit. Meet up in town tomorrow, need to talk out all this craziness." _

"Everyone's coming back?" Santana asked blankly, "girls as well?"

"I'll ask him," Mercedes said, taking the phone back and beginning to type a reply.

"I don't want to see anyone," Santana said backing away from them, panic rising in her. "I don't…I can't… They all know."

Rachel followed her. "It's okay," she said in a voice mimicking a meditation tape, "Everyone will be fine."

"You can just go to bed early and lock your door," Mercedes suggested, not looking up from her phone.

"Yes," Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "We'll keep watch so that no one disturbs you."

"I don't need guard dogs," Santana snapped, her composure unravelling.

Mercedes and Rachel exchanged looks, and Santana deflated. "Sorry," she murmured, "I'm just… I'm just tired."

The identical looks of incredulity that Mercedes and Rachel directed at her weren't enough to make Santana give up the lie. And anyway, it wasn't a lie. She may have slept eventually in Brittany's spare bedroom, but her eyes stung and her muscles ached from the sheer amount of stress she'd endured. Brittany's silence felt like it had manifested physically in Santana's chest. She carried it around, she felt it lurking on the periphery of every thought.

Santana slipped past Mercedes and Rachel and walked stiffly back down the hall to her room. She shut the door slowly and to extra care of clicking the lock into place. Then she turned back to her bed and lay down, pushing her head under pillow- seeking darkness like a refuge.

* * *

><p>Santana woke up and felt a blissful nothingness for several moments before disappointment crested over her in immense waves. She groaned, squeezing her eyes closed and pushing her hands over her face.<p>

Sleep had clogged her senses, but gradually she became aware of the immense stillness around her. She must have slept long enough into the night to miss everyone getting back.

A shiver passed over Santana as the cool air- the deep coolness of early morning - nipped at her bare shoulders. She tugged her blankets up under her chin and snaked a hand down to the floor, pulling her laptop up onto her stomach. Letting as little of herself out of the blankets as she could manage, Santana opened the lid and swiped the track pad with her fingertips to wake the screen up.

The light was blinding- making her eyes ache and her eyelids flutter furiously in protest. By squinting with one eye, Santana could make out the time in the top right corner. 5.56 a.m.

Groaning, she dipped her head back onto her pillow. It was bad enough that she would have to face everyone, let alone waking up extra early to do it.

Deciding that maybe she could prolong contact with anyone by missing room checks at 8.30 and going for a run instead, Santana rolled out of bed and fumbled beneath it in her drawers for her running clothes.

Once she was ready she slipped with painful slowness out of her room, trying to make as little noise as possible and continued down the hallway at the same pace- counting the closed doors as she went to see who'd come back from Brittany's the pervious night. Every door she counted was closed. Everyone was back apart from Brittany. Santana couldn't get out into the stairwell quick enough.

She got into the groove of her run quickly, completely eager for the exertion to overtake her mind. She took a different route to the one she normally focused on- and wound her way up the steeper road that lay east of Alexandra, bringing her up to a nearby cluster of shops and the back entrance onto Andrew's football field.

It took Santana the length of 5 songs on her iPod to reach that back gate- it was how she timed herself when she ran- and doubled over, panting from the exertion. When she steadied herself and looked up, she could make out a group of guys winding their way around the field, doing laps. As they drew closer, coming around the bend towards her, Santana could make out that they were all dressed in Andrews' sports gear. She couldn't recognise anyone, and was about to turn away when one of them raised their hand and waved at her. Santana hesitated, then waved back as she realised it was Sam- his goofy grin and mop of blonde hair giving him away.

He peeled away from the group and jogged over to her.

"Hey, Santana," he called as he reached the gate. His southern accent caused him to flatten out her name, drawing out the 'a's in a peculiar way. It had always made Santana smile, and now it had the odd effect of making her feel safe-as if this big goober was still treating her the same, things might be okay.

As he drew closer, Santana noticed the boyish pink flush on his cheeks, and the hair matted to his forehead by sweat. She probably looked just as dorky, she reasoned, and tugged at her ponytail to tighten it.

"Things not going too well?" He asked, stepping backwards to stretch his calf.

"Uh…" Santana hesitated awkwardly, not knowing how much he knew.

"Well, it's just that you're running on a Sunday morning and it looks like it's by choice and the only people I know that do that have something to get away from."

Santana was about cast a snarky remark about Sam being a creep, but something about his easy smile and the silly flop of his hair made her pause. She felt all her energy drain from her until all she could muster was a shrug.

Sam took several steps closer and ducked his head down to catch her eye.

"It's pretty crazy what happened with Britt and her parents."

Santana nodded and wiped a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye, hoping that Sam would mistake it for sweat. The last thing she needed was for this to get even more awkward.

"I hope you know I don't care. I'm just sorry that everyone else seems to."

Santana could only nod and try an appreciative smile.

"I didn't see Britt before we left," He continued, "but I know she likes you a lot, so just try and remember that."

"She told you?" Santana's voice was hoarse.

"Well," Sam faltered, "not … she didn't tell me she likes you in a making out kinda way, but she used to always talk about you when we hung out. Guess I should have known, eh?"

"I guess," Santana echoed, not really concentrating on what she was saying. Her thoughts were in the contradictions- the fact that Brittany had seemed to be so many amazing, exciting and new things, but then in one night, everything could turn on its head and all Santana was left with was silence. That silence felt like it had swallowed Brittany, and all the things that had happened since they'd met. None of it felt real to Santana anymore.

One of Sam's teammates began beckoning for Sam to re-join them, and after an apologetic sun beam of a smile Sam jogged back, leaving Santana to turn around and begin back to the boarding house.

She ran with less conviction than she had done when she'd set off. Her dread of seeing the others made her feet drag, and her muscles began to ache. By the time she reached the gate of the boarding house, Santana was walking.

On the way up the still and quiet stairwell, Santana became conscious of how hard her heart was pumping. Unsure whether it was from nerves or her run, she paused at the top landing of the stairs to take several deep breaths.

It was then that she heard the voices- muffled and multi toned- coming from the other side of the door into the dorm. By the sounds of it, someone had called a group meeting.

Suddenly, Rachel's voice rose louder out of the indistinct hum.

"All I'm saying is to please not blow this out of proportion. It will be hard enough without getting anyone else involved."

"So, keep this all to yourselves," Mercedes' voice added.

"Well that's hardly fair," Santana heard Emma object, "it's not like they felt the need to keep it to themselves."

There was a smattering of laughter. Santana went cold.

"Please," Rachel started, but another voice interrupted her. Quinn's, Santana realised.

"I'm sorry Rachel, but I really can't sit here and listen to you defend her. It's her fault that Brittany isn't coming back."

"How is it Santana's fault?" Lauren sounded outraged, "where the hell did you pull that one from, Fabray?"

"That's just what I heard from Becky who was _in the room _with Britt and her parents. Apparently Britt was uncomfortable by what was happening with her and Santana, but didn't know how to end it. Apparently she's really clingy."

"Quinn…" Mercedes said warningly.

"No, but it all fits," Quinn interrupted, raising her voice a little, "all those times that Santana went weird because Britt was talking to Artie."

"Or Sam," Emma added.

"Or that guy at the party. What was his name?" Sugar asked.

"Josh," Quinn supplied, her voice rising in enthusiasm, "exactly! She was jealous of them all." Quinn's laughter came through the doorway. "It's so hilarious."

Santana felt the last reserves of energy drain from her muscles and blearily she teetered, trying to get herself together. Her heart was pounding twice as fast as it had been when she stopped to rest and she felt as cold as stone. She wanted to scream. She wanted to turn and take the stairs two at a time and run and run and run until she collapsed and didn't have to feel anymore.

But instead, she turned resolutely to the door and pulled it open.

She registered everyone turn to look at her, and Quinn fall silent mid laugh, but none of it felt real to her. She felt entirely detached, though every part of her was radiating anger. She didn't trust herself to look anywhere but straight ahead and she walked down the hall, not acknowledging everyone scrambling their legs out of the way so she could get through, nor listening when Rachel tentatively called her name. She ignored it all, and walked straight-backed towards the showers. It was only when she passed everyone that she closed her eyes and let the tears fall down her face.


	16. Kick My Dreams

**Hello again :) **

**My beta, ************T97Carolina, is awesome. **************

**************That is all. **************

**************Enjoy. **************

**Chapter 15: Kick My Dreams**

"Santana Lopez? Yes, she's right over there. Second row, third from the back."

At the sound of her name, Santana glanced up from her Politics worksheet and saw a nervous looking ninth grader picking their way through the row of desks toward her. Everyone in the general vicinity had turned to watch her progress.

When she was a desk and a half away from Santana, the girl extended her hand to reveal a small pink slip. Alexandra Academy had a system of communicating with their students which entailed using various different coloured slips of paper corresponding with who wanted to contact the student. If it were the absentee office, the poor ninth grader who'd been elected to do office duty for the week would deliver a white slip. If it were the dean's or the principal's office, it would be a blue slip. Those were the most ominous, but the color that attracted the most interest were the pink ones- delivered by the counsellor's office.

Santana leaned forwards and snatched the slip off the ninth grader as quick as she could. But already it was starting to attract attention from the students around her. Santana ducked her head and stared down at the slip in her hands. '_Santana Lopez'_, someone had scrawled in the available space beside the computer generated word '_name'_. Then, written beside the '_please come to counselor's office' _section was: "_now, if possible_."

Carefully and resolutely, with her mind whirling over all the possibilities for how this had happened, Santana crumpled the piece of paper in her fist and got shakily to her feet, sweeping the book, worksheet and pens back into her bag. Then she hitched it onto one shoulder and headed towards the door, uncomfortably conscious of the whole class staring at her back.

Santana had never been to the school counselor in her life. The closest she'd gotten was dropping Liv off there when everything came out about the drugs. The one Liv had gone to see had been a youngish African American woman with an amazingly cool headscarf who called Liv by her first name. But when Santana got to the waiting room, an old white woman with her glasses on a beaded string around her neck stuck her head around her office door.

"Miss Lopez?" She said, smiling serenely, "Come on in."

Her office was, as Santana expected, full of self help posters and stress balls. She indicated a chair near the window and Santana sat down stiffly in it, noting that it was the exact same style as the one she'd been sitting in in her politics class. This one, however, felt far less comfortable.

"So, Miss Lopez," The counsellor said, taking the chair across from her, crossing her legs and squeezing her hands together, "I'm Ms Randal."

"Okay," Santana said, after an awkward pause with Ms Randal's smile angled at her. "Erm. I don't really know why I'm…"

"I've been contacted by the staff from the boarding house, who have noticed your withdrawal over the past half a week. One of your fellow boarders apparently went to them in concern for your wellbeing."

Santana blinked, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She tried to quickly think of who would have reported her but before she had time to ask, Ms Randal scooted her chair closer.

"Miss Lopez, I've discussed this with the head of your boarding house, and she and I both felt it would be best if this information was brought to you in the most considerate way possible."

"What information?" Santana asked, scooting her chair backwards ever so slightly. Ms Randal's smile faltered faintly and then she tilted her head to the other side.

"Your boarding house director, Mrs Cowley, has been in contact with your parents following a complaint that has been lodged against you by another student's parents."

"Wh-Who…" Santana tried to ask, but it was no use. Tears flooded her voice, making it useless. She knew whose parents. She knew from the moment she'd seen the pink slip that something had happened about Brittany and her party the weekend before.

It had been nearly five days since she'd seen Brittany. Five days without contact. None of the other girls had heard from her either, as far as Santana knew, but then, everyone was walking on eggshells around Santana anyway so they probably would avoid telling her.

Santana hadn't been sleeping; she'd hardly eaten for the unsettling churning in her stomach. She'd been waiting for something to happen. She had known at some point that something had to give, but she'd never expected Brittany's parents to involve the boarding house. She never expected Brittany to just do a complete 360 and go against everything Santana had thought she'd known about her.

None of it made sense. And now, sitting in front of this weird counselor lady, Santana felt a wave of hopelessness hit her. She could barely breathe, but she fought her tears and looked up.

"So they know then? The boarding house…staff…they know about…"

"Mr and Mrs Pierce were simply concerned about the lasting affects that an…entanglement… of the nature that occurred during the weekend just gone will negatively affect the boarding house environment and both of your studies."

Ms Randal sounded like she was reading off of a cue card. The dullness in the way that she was running through the information was such a stark contrast to how painful it was for Santana to hear that she had the sudden urge to laugh.

"Miss Lopez," Ms Randal said, ducking her head lower to catch Santana's eye, "I've been told to talk to you about the procedure from here, and offer you some support in coping with the transition of the next few days."

"Transition...what transition?"

"Well…" Ms Randal hesitated, and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "The-the boarding house has been in touch with your parents, who agreed that the idea of moving you to a room that separates you and Miss Pierce in the future to properly help eliminate any cause for further disruption."

"My parents?" Santana raised her voice in shock, feeling panic surging through her. "They told my parents about this?"

"Well, yes… yes. Mrs Cowley felt it was best that your parents were informed. It's no good the boarding house acting on one parents' wishes without consulting the other…"

"So they know," Santana interrupted, her voice wavering from a mixture of outrage and fear, "they know about…about me and Britt…Brittany?"

Ms Randal paused, her eyes darting across Santana's face. Santana could see pity, which made her feel sick.

"They…well…" Ms Randal shifted awkwardly in her chair, adjusting the hem of her blouse. "I believe they were informed, yes."

Santana stood up suddenly, propelled to her feet by her anger. She could hardly hear Ms Randal's protests as she stood up, too, holding her hands out warily.

"Now, Miss Lopez, please, you have to calm down."

"No," Santana snapped, reaching for the door handle. More forcefully than Santana would have guessed, Ms Randal batted her hand away and stood in front of the door, blocking her path.

"Please," she said, her voice even and calm and infuriating, "I can't allow you to leave when you're this upset. It must have come as quite a shock but…"

"When?" Santana managed, her voice shaking with rage. She was about one foot away from squaring off with Ms Randal, and she couldn't give a crap.

"When? When what, dear?" Ms Randal asked, shakily adjusting her glasses again.

"When did she call my parents?"

"Well," Ms Randal hesitated, "I don't know exactly, but I'm assuming this morning….Ah, Miss Lopez, please…"

But Santana had wrenched the door open and stridden away, the anger and panic coursing through her making everything seem slightly warped.

She knew where she was going, even before she left the office building, and she wound her way through the school with a confidence that surprised her. She almost wanted a teacher to try and stop her, just so she could have another reckless argument, but she passed through the school undisturbed.

It was only when she reached the gates of the boarding house that some of Santana's drive deflated. She could see a group of twelfth graders milling in the foyer- probably waiting for their free period to end so they could head to school. Miss Pillsbury was sitting behind the sliding glass doors of the reception area, nibbling on a grape. Behind her, Mrs Cowley was on the phone, taking notes down with one hand as she listened.

For reasons that Santana couldn't understand, the sight of Mrs Cowley on the phone ignited that blind motivation in her again. She paced boldly up towards the door and yanked it open.

The noise caught the attention of everyone in the foyer. The seniors did a double take, but Santana ignored them and turned on her heel towards the desk, where Miss Pillsbury had paused- mid-chew- looking at her.

"I want to see Mrs Cowley," Santana muttered as she got near enough to the desk.

"Okay, Santana," Miss Pillsbury said slowly, "did you sign out from school?"

"No," Santana snapped, shifting her attention to Mrs Cowley, who had finished her phone call and was turning to see what the commotion was.

When she set eyes on Santana, her face constricted into a tight smile.

"Santana. You arrived quickly."

"What?" Santana asked.

"I just got off the phone with Ms Randal, who apparently had you in her office for an appointment I believe. She said you left rather abruptly."

Santana glared at Mrs Cowley. She felt almost winded by her anger.

"Come with me," Mrs Cowley said, seeming to realise that Santana was in danger of exploding in front of the seniors and Miss Pillsbury.

Santana pushed off the desk and strode around to where Mrs Cowley's office door was, walking inside without waiting for her to invite her in. As soon as she heard the door shut behind her, Santana turned to face Mrs Cowley, curling her hands into fists to stop them shaking with rage.

"You called my parents?"

To Santana's surprise, the statement, which was meant to be low and accusatory, came out all upturned at the end like a strangled question. What made her even more furious was the brisk way that Mrs Cowley sat down in her office chair, primly crossed her legs and looked up at Santana expectantly.

"Why don't you take a seat, Santana?"

Santana sat, fuming, and repeated her question.

"I did," Mrs Cowley nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "They expressed concern that this upheaval would affect your studies, but I informed them that you were a head strong girl who wouldn't let herself get caught up in distractions."

Santana stared at Mrs Cowley, gauging how much trouble she would be in if she really let her feelings out.

"They agreed it was appropriate for you to be moved," Mrs Cowley continued. "We have a spare room in the southern wing of the building. It's an empty prefects room in the eleventh grade dorm. We are putting a little distance between you and Miss Pierce in the hopes that this will not disrupt either of you. You are, at the end of the day, here to learn."

Santana sat very still as the information wound through her head. Usually, Mrs Cowley's sheer idiocy would have her wanting to scream, but a new thought had taken over- one that threaded confusion and nerves throughout her brain.

"So is Brittany… she's coming back?"

Mrs Cowley leaned forwards and slipped a yellow piece of paper from near her computer keyboard. She picked up a pen, clicked it, and began to write.

"Miss Pierce's future is being discussed in a meeting with her and her parents and I on Friday," she said, without looking up.

"Okay but…"

Mrs Cowley stopped writing, placed her pen down and turned to Santana. Her eyes were angled downwards over the tops of her glasses.

"This really doesn't concern you, Santana," she said matter-of-factly. Then she handed Santana the piece of paper.

"This excuses you for your absences this morning. Give it to the administration and then return to your next class."

Santana took the paper, and stood with Mrs Cowley, her annoyance mounting.

"Hold on. I…"

"You will," Mrs Cowley rose her voice sharply over Santana's, "clean your room out and make the move to your new one this afternoon. I'm sure the other girls can help you."

She opened her door and stepped back, allowing Santana to walk through.

Santana wasn't intending on acknowledging Mrs Cowley any further, her mind already whirling towards the impending conversation she was going to have to have with her parents, but Mrs Cowley rose her voice to Santana one last time.

"Oh, Santana, wait, one more thing."

Santana turned, drawing her eyes expectantly over Mrs Cowley's face.

"Please make sure you remove any pins or razors or any sharp objects and hand them into the office during your move this afternoon. I'm afraid Ms Randal thinks it best. As a…precautionary measure."

Stunned, Santana watched as Mrs Cowley turned on her heel away from her, and walked back into her office, closing the door behind her with a sharp snap.

* * *

><p>That evening Santana's small room was stifling. Hotter than usual. But she guessed that it was probably because she'd just spend the last hour dragging her suitcases up from the luggage cupboard and filling them with all her stuff.<p>

After lugging half her clothes out of her drawers in into a suitcase she paused for a moment, brushing at the damp skin on the back of her neck.

On her bed, Rachel and Mercedes were taking up what space was left amongst her clothes. Rachel was cradling the small box they'd filled with pins and shavers and sharp objects from around Santana's room, and she was talking in a low, animated whisper.

"Well no one has said anything to me about it. Probably because they know I will call them out if I hear them saying meaning or misleading things about you and Brittany," she sniffed indignantly. "But I know that no one has heard from Brittany. Like…. _at all."_

"But everyone knows we're on your side," Mercedes added, "so the ones that are being idiots about it all are keeping away from us."

"So who's that?" Santana asked, tossing a bunch of tops into the half full suitcase at her feet.

"Well…" Mercedes drew a breath, "there's Quinn and Emma and Amy obviously. And they've being seeing the boys a lot too. And well…" She shifted uncomfortably. "They have definitely told some of the day girls."

The information made Santana stiffen, but it hurt less than she'd been expecting. Maybe that was because she _had_ been expecting it. She'd noticed the sidelong looks and the whispers and giggles trailing her down the corridor. They'd sprung up almost from Monday- the first day she got back to school. She had guessed that Quinn wouldn't keep what had happened to herself, and she could just imagine what she'd been saying over Facebook.

"Santana?" Mercedes ducked her head forward to get Santana's attention. "Are you alright?"

"I will be," Santana muttered, reaching back into her wardrobe.

"Well, if it helps, Finn said he'd be happy to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your parents," Rachel chimed in.

Santana suppressed the urge to vomit and nodded shortly. "Thanks, but…I think I'll pass."

"Well, do you… do you know what you're going to say to them?" Mercedes asked haltingly.

Santana busied herself with the rest of her clothes and shrugged. Her insides had begun to churn in that wish-wash way that had become a normal sensation since everything that had happened at Brittany's. There had been a wall of silence from her parents the whole day. Santana kept checking her phone for signs of them messaging her, but nothing came. She left her phone on vibrate in the pocket of her blazer, feeling like she was carrying a bomb around.

Suddenly, on her desk, Mercedes phone began to skitter violently with a text message. Santana froze, like she did whenever Rachel or Mercedes got a text, and held her breath, wanting it more than ever to be Brittany, but also hoping like hell that it wasn't.

Mercedes leaned over, quick as a flash, and picked the phone up, clicking into the message. Santana watched her eyes travel over the screen, her breath caught in her throat.

"It's Lauren," Mercedes said after a moment, glancing up at Santana apologetically. "She and Sugar are on their way back from town to help us out moving everything."

Deflated, Santana nodded and attempted to look grateful.

"Cool," she said, turning back for the last of her clothes in her closet. Once she'd shut up her suitcase Rachel stood up and shook the box full of sharp objects.

"I'll take this to the office, then, shall I?"

"Right," Santana nodded.

"And we'll start taking your packed bags over to your new room? To clear you know…" Mercedes voice became strained as she eased herself out from among the huge pile of things all around her, "some space."

Santana felt an odd sensation prickle the back of her throat. When she realized it was laughter she let it out in a hollow gush. She couldn't remember the last time she'd really laughed that wasn't out of politeness.

Santana's new room seemed excruciatingly far away from the tenth grade dorm- when really it was only 30 yards. Santana guessed that the weight of the several tons of clothing she was carrying probably added a few mental miles in distance. When she and Mercedes arrived outside her new room, Mercedes dumped the box she was holding on the ground and let out a grateful groan. Santana inched further into the room, placed her own boxes down and looked around.

The first thing that struck her was how big the room was. It was almost normal size, with two panels of windows on one wall looking out at a grassy area at the back of the boarding house. The walls were panelled wood, and the floor was covered in the same carpet as her old room. The bed was a double, and was an actual _bed –_ not attached to the wall with a slim mattress over a wooden base. Mercedes leapt forwards and lay down on it, fanning her arms out and swiping them back and forth like she was trying to make a snow angel with the bed sheets Santana had just thrown her way.

"This is almost like a real bed," she exclaimed.

"A real room," Santana echoed, trailing her eyes around it.

She had a desk- one of those heavy wooden ones that had drawers on either side of the chair compartment. As well as that, she had two bedside tables, a freestanding closet and an old patterned rocking chair. One that Santana associated with second hand shops or the corner of the guest bedroom at her abuelas house.

Santana walked over and sank into it. It only took a slight coaxing from her bending her knees before the chair began to rock back and forth. Santana closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the motion calm her. She realized then, how tired she was. Her brain had been in overdrive since she'd been called to the counselor so she hadn't had a moment to let her tiredness matter. But when she began fading in and out of sleep, Santana realized it had been nearly a week since she had a proper sleep. She wanted to give into the unconsciousness and give herself a break from the thing pressing in on her. But, before she could surrender completely, her phone began trilling in her pocket.

Santana stopped rocking and snapped her eyes open. She caught sight of Mercedes, sitting up on her bed and gazing warily in her direction.

"Who is it?" She asked as Santana scrambled to extract it from the pocket of her blazer.

"My Dad," Santana replied, staring down at the name on her screen. She pressed accept, and raised the phone to her ear, squeezing her eyes closed against what she knew was coming.

"Dad," she said in a croaky voice, "hi."

"Santana." His own voice was steady and sure. The same as it had always been. "Santana, I'm on my way from work. I'm driving to see you and…and to take you out to dinner."

Santana sat forward on her seat and dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to hang up and hide. She wanted him to hug her. She wanted to see Brittany. She wanted to scream at her. All the feelings were overwhelming. Santana could barely keep her voice still as she said, "Dad, I…"

"I'll see you soon, okay, Santana? I'm about half an hour away."

After he hung up, Santana let the phone beep in her ear for a moment, numb.

Mercedes got cautiously up off the bed, peering at her.

"Santana?" She murmured, "What happened?"

Santana lowered the phone. "He's coming to get me," she said.

"Who is?" Rachel called, bustling in, her arms laden with boxes. Behind her came Lauren and Sugar- carrying suitcases and other bags from Santana's room.

"That's the lot of it," Lauren puffed, setting down what she was carrying and pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"Wow," She muttered, looking around, "you can't say that you got the raw deal, can you?"

"What did your dad say?" Mercedes interrupted, still looking at Santana. Rachel, Sugar and Lauren turned their attention to her as well.

"He's coming to pick me up. He wants to take me to dinner."

"Dinner…okay…" Rachel said slowly, gauging the situation. "That's…that's not _bad. _Right?" Santana watched her exchange furtive looks with the others.

"No...it's… food," Sugar said unhelpfully.

"Food. Yeah. And a casual conversation about lesbianism," Santana muttered.

Lauren snickered. Rachel shushed her loudly and then approached Santana.

"How far away is he?"

"Half an hour."

"Okay…well…well how about you get changed. Find some clothes," Rachel glanced around at the suitcases. "And then we'll come back and just wait with you until he gets here."

"Okay," Santana nodded. As they shuffled out, she stood up out of the chair and shrugged off her blazer. Then, slowly, she pulled the rest of her uniform off, her chest constricting as she held in tears of frustration and nerves.

When she finished, she called them back in and resumed her place on her rocking chair. Mercedes and Rachel decided to make her bed, while Sugar went through her make up bag and Lauren reattached one of her curtains that had come loose from the rail.

As they chatted and laughed around her, Santana sat and ran her eyes over them. She was an equal amount nervous and grateful. Having them there made it easier. It kept the thoughts of what her dad would say at bay.

One thing their company could not do, however, was bridge the aching gulf of silence that came from Brittany.

* * *

><p>As soon as she laid eyes on her dad, standing tall and smart in the boarding house office, Santana knew that he was as tired as she was. He turned towards her as though he knew she was approaching and smiled at her. It was her smile. Everyone always said they had the same smile. The cheeks, the dimples, the way their eyes turned into crinkled sparks. But, rather than comfort her, seeing him smile just made her feel even sicker.<p>

"I signed you out already," he said when she arrived in front of him. "We can go."

Santana paused, momentarily taken aback at his briskness.

"Oh…okay…I…"

But her dad was walking away, heading for the door.

The evening was cool outside the boarding house; cool enough to make Santana wished she'd dressed more warmly. Once they were out of the path and onto the street it was a quick, silent walk to her fathers Land Rover. He clicked the unlock button and held open her door for her like he always did. Santana huddled into the leather of the front passenger seat and shivered from the cool blast of the air conditioning.

Her dad hopped in the driver's seat and started up the car. Then he took a breath and made no move to drive away. Santana stiffened, her eyes staring straight ahead. Every nerve in her body seemed to be electrified.

"Santana," her father said. Then he took another breath.

Santana kept staring ahead at the gravel that was lit up by the headlights. She bit her bottom lip, but the sadness was swelling in her chest. Tears were warbling at the corners of her eyes. Starting to lose control, Santana took a jagged breath.

Suddenly, she heard the squeak of her dad shifting against the leather seat and then he draped one arm around her shoulder and pulled her as best he could towards him.

Crushed against his chest- such a familiar place- Santana let go. She shook as the sobs wracked through her. They were loud and desperate and completely out of her control. Her dad let her cry, rubbing his hand on her back as best he could despite their awkward position.

Gradually, Santana's sobs became hiccups, and her dad let her go, handing her a packet of tissues from somewhere so she could wipe her face. He watched her as she pulled down the sun visor and scraped the spilled mascara off the tops of her cheeks. She was still taking the odd occasionally erratic breath but it was slowing down and she was able to clear most of the make up away.

"You know nothing has changed, don't you?" Her dad said after Santana closed the sun visor and looked at him sheepishly.

"It feels like it has," she replied, winding the tissue around her fingers.

"I know. I know it does. But whatever we heard today doesn't change…we still… we still love you very much."

The '_we'_ Santana knew, stood for her mom. She wondered who had picked up Mrs Cowley's call and whether her mom had sent her dad to talk because she couldn't face it, or whether that was just a coincidence.

"Now, are you…are you going to be okay with all this? Do you want to come home and have a break?"

"No," Santana shook her head. Whatever shit was happening to her at the boarding house, she'd rather be there to defend herself than be isolated two hours away not knowing what was being said about her.

Her dad reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. His grip was so tight that she glanced up in surprise, and found him staring at her like he was trying to memorize her. She tried a smile- a weak, watery one and he returned it in earnest before letting go and turning to put the car into gear.

They ate at a quiet Italian restaurant – one that Santana always walked past on her way into town but had never been to. They didn't talk much, but Santana didn't mind. It was the easy silence that she and her dad had always shared and Santana was glad for it- it meant nothing had changed.

It was late when she got back. The boarding house was surreally quiet from everyone in their rooms doing prep. The oddest part was instead of taking a sharp left in the office to the tenth grade stairwell, Santana had to remind herself to carry on out the door into the grassy quad and walk across it to the eleventh grade dorm and to her unfamiliar new dorm.

Her room was darker than she'd left it, and when she flicked the light on she almost stumbled from shock. The boxes and suitcases that had been strewn around her room when she left were gone. Her bed was made, an assortment of books and jewellery were crowded onto her bedside tables. Her desk was set up almost the exact way she'd had it in her old room- with her computer in the middle, flanked on either side by her text books. Amazed, Santana stepped forwards and swung open her closet door to reveal all her clothes hung up on the rail or folded neatly into the four pull out drawers that ran up one side. Her shoes were also tucked tidily on top of one another at the bottom of the closet.

Grinning now, completely amazed, Santana turned back and surveyed her room again- noticing other small details- like her school bag sitting on the rocking chair and her blazer hung neatly around the back of it. Her eyes drifted to the wall above her bed- where someone had stuck her Rastafarian poster and the youth line flower that they'd made weeks ago.

The sight of it made Santana stiffen. Her eyes immediately were drawn to one petal with yellow writing- faint in the glow of the light overhead. Santana couldn't read it from where she was standing, but she knew the words written there easily. She'd read them more times than she'd read any other petal. Not wanting to see it, she slumped on her bed, facing away from the wall and turning her face into her pillow. She breathed in the smell- recognizing the scent of her own shampoo. She thought she was going to cry again but the tears didn't come. There was only an aching feeling. It left her exhausted.

Santana rolled over after awhile- when her jeans got uncomfortable – and stood up to find her pajamas. At that moment, her phone, which she'd left on her bed, began to buzz. Santana turned back to it and looked down at the screen, still unbuttoning her jeans.

The message banner said it was from an unknown number and where the text should have been was a photo instead. Santana stripped off her jeans and fell back on the bed to her phone, rolling over and raising it above her head as she opened the message.

When the photo was brought up full screen Santana froze. She and Brittany were pictured lying together on Brittany's bed, curled right up close to one another. Brittany was turned sideways to Santana, holding up the phone for a photo at the same time as she planted a kiss on Santana's cheek. Santana was pulling a half ecstatic, half embarrassed expression- one that she'd never seen on herself before. As she was studying the photo, her phone buzzed time it was a call from the unknown number.

Santana knew who it would be before she pressed the 'accept' button and heard the shaky sound of Brittany crying. She pressed the phone as hard as she could to her ear and soaked in the sound- feeling her own tears coming back hard and fast.

"San?" Brittany's voice sounded pathetically sad. It made Santana's stomach twist. She couldn't bring herself to answer for a moment.

"I'm here," She managed, finally, in a croaky voice.

"Did you get my picture?"

"Yeah, uh-huh," Santana sniffed.

There was a static filled silence and then she head Brittany blow her nose some distance from the phone.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk to anyone. My parents…my parents took my phone and laptop. They wanted me to clear my head, which is weird because it's never clear. But I…I had to… they told me they called Mrs Cowley and told her what happened and then I just couldn't not know how you were," Brittany talked in one gushed breath, her words climbing over one another in her haste to explain. "So, I took my phone back so I could talk to you. I tried again and again, but your phone was off, so, finally, I tried Rachel coz she knows everything useful and asked her if you were okay, and she gave me your new number just now. I didn't know your phone was broken. I would have… I didn't know…"

Brittany's breathing was becoming shallow and Santana interrupted her.

"It's…Britt, it's okay. It's… I'm okay. I just…"

"Santana?" Brittany's voice cracked.

Santana stopped and took a breath.

"Yeah?" she asked meekly.

Brittany's next words were swallowed by the onset of her tears but to Santana they rang as clear as a bell through the speaker.

"I love you, so much. You know that, don't you?"

Santana closed her eyes, feeling almost weightless at the words. She drew back her own tears with a sniff and nodded hard into the phone. Then with a brief laugh, she realized that Brittany couldn't see her.

"I know, yeah. I think… I mean… this has been hell. But I..." Santana squeezed her eyes closed harder, "I love you back."


	17. Defend The Silver Lining

**Update ya'll. Thanks, as ever, to my beta- ************T97Carolina. She is all kinds of awesome. **************

**************You guys know the deal- any questions should be asked here: lumosknoxobliviate . tumblr . com**************

**Chapter 16: Defend The Silver Lining**

"Eat, Santana. You have to eat."

Santana drew her head up off of her arms as her hand was nudged by a tray. Rachel was smiling encouragingly on the other side of the table.

"Finn got you a burger, look."

"I'm not hungry," Santana said, pushing the tray to the side slightly. "Thanks, though," she added to Finn.

Beside Santana, Sam reached over and plucked the burger from its wrappings, taking a giant bite. Santana watched as Rachel's face dropped in disgust.

"Saaam," she scolded, "that was Santana's!"

"What? She didn't want…" Sam's overstuffed mouth struggled around the words. He drew the back of his hand against it to get the sauce off his face.

"It's fine," Santana said to Rachel, "really, I'm not hungry."

"You have to pay me back," Finn said, his eyes narrowed at Sam.

"You owe me anyway," Sam retorted, swallowing his mouthful and zeroing in for another. Rachel sent another dark look in his direction before putting her hand up against the side of her face to block him from sight. Then she leant forward to get Santana's attention.

"You have to eat something," She hissed. "It's been _days."_

"It has not been _days," _Santana scoffed, "I ate a wrap at lunch today. You should know because you made me pick the wrapper out of the normal trash can to put it in recycling."

Rachel looked defeated. "I just think that a full stomach helps put everything a little better in perspective," she muttered.

"So it's possible to get a better perspective on the fact that Brittany could be getting taken out of school and moving to another state?"

"Yes!" Rachel countered. "You only know that she's having a meeting with Mrs Cowley and the dean. You don't know anything about her moving away or even her leaving the boarding house, do you?"

Santana, reluctant to admit that she was wrong, answered in a sullen voice, "Britt said in her phone call yesterday that she didn't know what was going to happen…"

"Exactly," Rachel exclaimed, banging the table for emphasis. Finn, midway through a sip of coke, jumped in fright and promptly started spluttering into his straw. Rachel shushed him, and continued, "she doesn't know what's going to happen, and neither do you!"

"Not knowing makes you crazy," Sam said with a shrug, still fixated on the burger, "It's natural to jump to conclusions. It doesn't necessarily mean you're hungry."

Santana snorted with laughter and patted him on the arm.

"Finally, a voice of reason," she laughed.

"Finn!" Rachel exclaimed suddenly, batting his hand away as he reached towards the fries that lay on Santana's abandoned tray.

"What?" He exclaimed, "I bought them, and if she isn't going to eat them…" He paused suddenly, his eyes flickering over Santana's shoulder. She watched as his expression changed from incredulous to awkward. Rachel turned to where he was looking as well, and her face did the same thing- her expression hardened. Confused, Santana looked over her shoulder as well and turned back almost immediately, feeling her stomach twist around itself.

In her brief glance she'd managed to lock eyes with Puck, who was approaching their table.

"Oh, great," Santana muttered, wishing she could sink into herself and disappear. She hadn't seen or spoken to Puck since they'd broken up. And she had no desire to, especially now that he was dating Quinn- who Santana had to physically avoid to stop herself from doing or saying anything stupid.

"He's not coming over is he?" She muttered.

Sam, catching onto the conversation, glanced up and looked around. "Hey it's Puck! Puck!"

"You idiot!" Rachel exclaimed, reaching across the table to unsubtly slap his arm, "Santana doesn't want to see him."

"It's okay…" Santana was halfway through speaking when Puck appeared on Sam's other side.

"Sup," he said, passing a smile around them.

"Hey," Sam and Finn chorused in an attempt to sound cheerful.

"You're here to see Quinn, I presume?" Rachel asked stiffly. Santana could have kicked her for making the awkwardness any more palpable.

"Erm…yeah…" Puck said after a pause.

"We're just eating burgers," Finn said in that same cheerful tone with which he'd greeted Puck.

"Nice," Puck said.

There seemed nothing else left to say. Santana fixed her eyes on the zipper of Finn's sweater in front of her, hoping like hell that Puck would take the strained silence as a hint and leave. Instead, Santana heard him say her name.

She looked up to find him giving her a hesitant half smile.

"Long time, no see," he said, his voice soft.

She nodded shortly, not trusting herself to speak.

"There's Quinn," Rachel said, nodding behind Puck. "You better go."

Puck turned and Santana was able to see Quinn hovering by the escalators, her chin notched and her eyes drifting appraisingly over them.

"Alright," Puck said, facing them again and passing a hand over the back of his Mohawk. Santana recognized the gesture- he'd always done it when he was nervous. "I guess I'll see you round."

"See you at dinner," Sam said cheerfully. He was the only one that waved as Puck walked away.

"Urgh. Gross." Sugar arrived at their table watching Puck walk away with her nose wrinkled. She'd left them 15 minutes earlier to get a smoothie and returned carrying two shopping bags.

"What did he want?" She asked, sitting in her seat at the head of the table.

"To be annoying," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"He seemed like he wanted to say something to Santana," Finn added, chewing thoughtfully on another mouthful of fries.

"You think he wants you back?" Rachel asked, whipping her head back around to Santana.

"God, no," Santana snorted, watching over Finn's shoulder as Puck and Quinn disappeared together down the escalator. "He probably just wanted to know if it was all true."

"He knows," Finn corrected. "Quinn told him, and some guys from the football team and they came back to our boarding house giving him crap about it."

"Why were they giving him crap?" Rachel asked.

Finn shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "It doesn't matter really, it wasn't really…"

"Let me guess," Santana interrupted, a realization sweeping over her like a chill. "They teased him for turning his ex-girlfriend gay."

Finn grimaced and looked apologetically at her. "T-that's the gist of it," he nodded.

"It makes sense," Sugar said suddenly.

"What?" Santana blanched, looking sharply around at her.

"It's just…" Sugar shuddered, "he's so…he's so gross and dirty! Britt is waaay hotter."

There was a warped moment of stunned silence following Sugar's comment. And then, one by one, they all began to laugh.

"I agree," Sam called over the noise, nudging Santana and winking. This only made Santana laugh harder, clutching her stomach as it began to ache.

* * *

><p>Santana was still not used to her new room. She woke up for the third morning in a row blinking in mounting confusion and panic at the unfamiliar roof above her head. The sun was streaming in the gap in her curtains in a bright, burning way it had never been able to in her old room because they faced opposite sides of the sky. Her mouth was dry, her nose was blocked and she felt hot and flustered.<p>

She sat up and kicked off her blankets, which felt like they were suffocating her. Looking down, she realized that she was only wearing her underwear and a tank top. She'd been sure that gone to sleep wearing her pyjama bottoms but when she got out of bed she found them crumpled on the floor at the foot of it. She must have kicked them off in her sleep because of the heat she guessed.

Blearily, she dressed in her uniform to head over to breakfast and was on her way out the door when she remembered her phone. She'd sent Brittany a goodnight text the night before but had fallen asleep before she'd gotten a reply.

Sure enough, when she picked her phone and turned the screen on she saw an unread message from Brittany.

_Night, San. Sweet dreams. I miss you and I can't wait to hopefully see you tomorrow. I get my phone back for good tomorrow so I won't have to keep on sneaking it just to send goodnight texts xoxo_

Santana felt her stomach constrict as she read the words. The day had sprung up on her quickly- reunion with Brittany after nearly two weeks and also a meeting that would decide Brittany's fate at the boarding house.

Santana had been too afraid to ask if Brittany knew whether or not her parents were going to withdraw her from the school, but she figured Brittany would tell her if she knew. That's what she had tried to convince herself, but now she was entirely unsure. If it wasn't for the prospect of the annoying breakfast lady telling Mrs Cowley that Santana had skipped breakfast she would have laid back down on her bed and tried to shut out the prospect of the upcoming day. But instead, she stood up again and headed to her door, joining the line of eleventh graders that were walking past from their dorm towards the dining room. As always, Santana got several side long looks from them- especially the ones she knew for a fact were pissed that a tenth grader had gotten a prefect sized room when all she'd been doing was making out with another girl.

By the time lunch rolled around, Santana had typed and deleted about ten text messages to Brittany. She wanted to wish her luck and tell her she loved her. She wanted to say so many things that she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She wound her way to the tennis courts, where she, Lauren, Sugar, Rachel and Mercedes had taken to sitting during lunch to get away from Quinn, Emma and Amy. Tina, intent on trying to keep the peace, had been going back and forth between the two groups, but lately she'd taken to sitting with her friends that she'd made during Asian summer camp.

Santana's nerves abated briefly when she spotted the familiar formation of her friends sitting in a circle beside a part of the tall, wire meshed fences. Santana made her way over and sat down between Lauren and Sugar, who squealed when she noticed that Santana had arrived and drew her into a tight hug around her shoulders.

"Hi hi hi hi," Sugar said in a singsong voice, letting a relieved Santana free and picking up a carrot stick which she then took a cheerful munch out of.

"Why so…bright and shiny?" Santana asked.

Sugar gave a coy shrug, but Lauren answered for her in a deadpan voice.

"She's pretty sure that she is dating the new quarterback at Alexandra. I mean, she's not entirely sure because he hasn't asked her but when he texted her good night last night there were three x's at the end instead of one."

"They practically made out," Mercedes added. Santana snorted and looked sideways at Sugar.

"And I suppose if he texts you 'xoxoxo' that's code for a marriage proposal?"

Sugar rolled her eyes and looked pointedly in the opposite direction.

"I refuse to talk about th- hey! Brittany!" Her voice shot so high in tone and pitch that Santana and the others jumped in unison and looked around.

And then, it felt to Santana like someone had punched her right up and under her ribcage.

It took a few seconds for her to actually register the fact that Brittany was walking towards them, and by the time she had, everyone else had gotten to their feet and were waving to her. Sugar had even run up ahead to hug her.

Santana stood up shakily, like she'd just been knocked down. She was just in time to see Brittany disengage from Sugar's hug, laughing. Then she turned towards the others and caught Santana's eye.

She hadn't changed, Santana realized. But that was a strange thought, because it felt like everything should have shifted to accommodate what had happened over the past week and a half. Brittany's smile still lit her face in the same way that made Santana's head spin. The end of her ponytail wisped around the side of her head as she swayed on those same long legs towards them. Her eyes were so bright Santana could see them shining half way across the courts. She wasn't in uniform, but instead was wearing the same turquoise jean she'd been wearing at the formal and a white clinging top.

The others crowded around her, and she hugged them all, squeezing them and murmuring good naturedly in reply to their excitement. Santana hovered in the back, willing silently for everyone to get out of the way so that she could take Brittany in fully. She was equal parts terrified and desperate to have Brittany look at her and say hello.

But Santana shouldn't have worried, because without any real effort Brittany stepped up and was in her arms and they were clinging tightly together. Santana squeezed her eyes closed so that she couldn't see anything over Brittany's shoulder and could concentrate more fully on the smell of Brittany and the feel of her pushing her face into the side of Santana's face. They stayed in the hug for a long time, not saying anything and when they finally pulled away, Santana had to hide the watery edges of her eyes in a laugh.

"Hi," Brittany said, her voice all high and shy.

"Hey," Santana said. They smiled at one another until Sugar made a noise that sounded like a wounded animal. They both jumped and looked around. She had her hands against her cheeks, drawing them downwards. She looked in pain.

"You guys are just so fucking adorable," she groaned, "I can't take it."

Santana felt her cheeks light up in embarrassment, and Brittany looked sideways at her, giggling.

"It's true, you guys," Mercedes nodded, "you are."

"Shut up," Santana managed, trying to brush it off. But she felt giddy. She wanted to hug Brittany again. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to kiss her so badly. But then, out of nowhere, Brittany's mom appeared on the edge of the group and smiled in a strained kind of way around them all. Santana nearly jumped away from Brittany in fright, and the others looked quickly back and forth between Santana and Brittany's mom like they were watching a tennis match. Santana would have bet that Lauren was wishing she had a bowl of popcorn.

"Hi, Mrs Peirce," Rachel said, composing herself.

"Hi, girls," Brittany's mom said, inclining her head slightly and redistributing the plastic looking smile around them once again. "Britt, we should get going if we want to get to the meeting."

Brittany gave her mom a short nod and then turned to Santana.

"I…" Santana started, but Brittany pulled her into a hug so tight the words rushed away from her.

"I'll see you soon okay?" Brittany murmured in Santana's ear. "I'll let you know as soon as I know, alright?"

"Please," Santana murmured back, her voice hoarse, "please do."

"I will."

They all stood and watched as Brittany and her mom made their way back across the courts. Santana had to fight the urge to run after her or to yell her name. Instead she just stood still, numb and scared.

At the very edge of the courts, just as they were about to disappear around the side of a nearby classroom, Brittany stopped and looked back, giving a small wave, and a smile directed straight at Santana.

"It'll all be okay," Rachel said bracingly, once they'd all sat down. "I swear if she gets kicked out or taken out or…or…I swear… I can talk to my dads' lawyer and we can…"

"My dad knows Bill Gates," Sugar said nonchalantly, snapping a carrot stick in half, "Bill Gates could fix this."

"Your dad saw Bill Gates _once," _Lauren said scathingly, "and it involved him holding the door open for Bill Gates. They might have said two words to one another."

Sugar gave her a scathing look and took a particularly vicious bite of her carrot but didn't answer.

"It will be fine. It will," Mercedes said. She sounded to Santana as though she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

* * *

><p>Concentrating in her next class was such a lost cause that Santana didn't even bother pretending. She had P.E- but it was a 'health' lesson, with a lady from the local police force coming in to give them the drugs talk. Santana chose the desk furthest from the front and put her head on her arms, closed her eyes and tried to fight the panic.<p>

She couldn't help herself from timing how long it was taking, and mentally calculating where Brittany was and what she was doing. Had she finished the meeting? Was she packing her bags? Santana checked her phone obsessively, not even bothering to hide it from Mrs Hawkins, who was sitting at the front of the class interviewing the police lady with such theatricality that Santana would have bet that she was fulfilling some weird Oprah fetish.

It got to half way through the lesson when the class was instructed to split into pairs and list the things they considered 'gateway drugs'. Automatically the class turned to the person sitting beside them and paired up effortlessly. Santana merely dropped her head back onto her desk and prayed that Mrs Hawkins wouldn't notice her.

A moment later, her hopes were dashed where she heard Mrs Hawkins mention her name to someone, telling them to pair up with her. Santana raised her head up from the desk and blinked at the person walking towards the empty desk beside her.

Brittany had changed into her uniform and was wearing a 600-watt smile. Santana couldn't keep her jaw from slackening in disbelief. She half stood to hug Brittany, and then, realizing that the whole class had turned to watch them, she dropped hurriedly back in her seat and settled for smiling as wide as she could as Brittany unslung her backpack from her arm and sat down next to her.

"Hey," she said brightly.

Santana stared.

"You're back?"

"Yup," Brittany nodded. "It's all okay."

"What happened?"

"They just explained that you'd be moved- your room I mean and then they said that there was nothing they could really do but to make sure that it didn't affect our studies or anything."

"And that's it?"

Brittany beamed, "and then I got into my uniform and said goodbye to mom, and now I'm here."

Santana ran her eyes over Brittany, still half suspended by disbelief.

"I can't believe that after all this… all this crap… It's all fine now! No one's getting kicked out or…"

Brittany shook her head, her smile widening.

"Nothing."

Santana was halfway through leaning forward to hug Brittany, no longer caring who was looking, when Mrs Hawkins appeared at the front of their desks with a sheet of paper that she placed in front of them.

"Reunions can be done on your own time, thank you, girls. List of gateway drugs, please, now."

Santana rolled her eyes, but Brittany gave a brisk nod and pulled the paper towards her with one hand. The other snaked under the desk and came to rest on Santana's thigh.

The touch felt like a zap of electricity. Santana sat up a little in her chair and leant closer to Brittany as though she was looking at the paper on Brittany's desk.

"What are you doing?" She murmured.

Brittany didn't take her eyes off the paper, but a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

"I'm thing about gateways and drugs," she said, "do you have a pen?"

Santana smirked and slid her pen across the desk towards Brittany, who picked it up and wrote 'Gateway Drugs' in curly writing at the top of the page. At the same time, she twitched her other hand on Santana's leg higher, and tensed her fingers so they dug in slightly. Santana shivered. Brittany was grinning at the desk now, running her pen over the title to darken it.

Santana took it from her and flipped the paper over. In the very bottom corner she wrote in miniscule writing:

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing :)"

"It doesn't feel like nothing :P"

"I heart you"

"I missed you"

"You missed your girlfriend?"

When Santana read the bit Brittany had added, she looked up. Brittany was looking to the front of the class, with a perfectly composed face of boredom.

Santana picked up the pen and bent over the page.

"I missed her more than she'll ever know."

* * *

><p>They fell backwards onto Santana's bed with simultaneous squeals, but quickly dissolved back into the mess of lips and hands and tangled hair that they had been as soon as they got the door to Santana's room closed and locked.<p>

Santana lay below Brittany, gripping the curve of her butt and pulling their hips harder against one another.

Brittany tasted better than Santana remembered. The soft pull and pluck of Brittany's lips caught her own hungrily, while the hot slip of her tongue stole her breath. Brittany's hands moved over Santana's body efficiently; pulling open the buttons on her uniform shirt and raking the lip of her stockings down off of her hips. Santana let her. She lay beneath Brittany and let their kiss soak into her while the undressing happened. And then Brittany's skin was on Santana's, and her palms were on her hips, on her ribcage, on her breasts.

It all felt rushed to Santana, yet strangely hazy. She was dizzy from the contact that she'd been fixated on for weeks and she wanted everything as quickly as she could get it. But she also wanted to savour every detail- like what it sounded like when Brittany dragged a breath into their kiss, or how Brittany slipped her thigh between Santana's legs and pushed it hard up against her center.

Somehow, during the heated moments, Brittany had managed to take off her own uniform and Santana reacted to the swelling heat of Brittany's breasts against her own with a moan the vibrated into their kiss. Brittany deepened the kiss and surged forwards, slipping her hand up to skate across the outside of Santana's underwear. She could feel it clinging to her- damp and hot- and felt the familiar flush of embarrassment. Brittany caught her expression and smiled down into her face.

"I never knew you could blush," she murmured.

"I can't… I mean I don't…" Santana stuttered.

"Then what's…this?" Santana bit her lip to stifle a groan as Brittany bent her head and drew her lips- open in a kiss- up the side of Santana's neck.

"The skin here goes a little pink," Brittany whispered, kissing the skin just below her ear. Santana squirmed as the feather touch of Brittany's lips began to tickle her. Brittany pulled back, sat up on her knees and pulled the sweep of her blonde hair off of her face so that she could grin down at Santana.

"You're the one that blushes," Santana laughed when she caught sight of Brittany's bright pink cheeks and red tipped ears. The flush even extended across her chest and up the sides of her neck.

Brittany looked down at herself and laughed, but stopped abruptly when Santana lifted her hands and swept them up Brittany's sides until she reached around and fitted her palms against the juts of Brittany's shoulder blades. She pulled her back down, kissed her, and surged her hips upwards as Brittany's fingers found her, finally.

Santana tipped her head back and tried to contain her moans as Brittany's fingers edged inside her. She gripped Brittany's shoulders as hard as she could, but she wasn't able to still her hips. They jarred upwards into Brittany's hand as her fingers began to pick up their rhythm.

It was different from the other times in the darkened quiet of Brittany's room. The curtains only slightly muffled the light from outside, and the bed was big enough for them to lie side by side. And that's what they did once Brittany had rocked Santana back down to earth. They lay facing one another, so close that Santana could only looked at sections of Brittany's face Santana fixed her gaze on one of Brittany's eyes and mapped how the grey and blue coiled together in her iris, and how her eye lashes were surprisingly dark, and fanned out across the freckled tops of her cheeks when she blinked.

"I missed you," Brittany said, sweeping her hand over Santana's cheek, "have I mentioned that?"

"You haven't, actually!" Santana laughed. "But I kinda guessed."

"Good," Brittany nodded, satisfied.

Santana leaned towards her, extending her head for another kiss when, faintly, the sound of the dinner bell clanged its way into the room.

Santana dropped back on the bed with a huff and threw her arm over her eyes.

"I didn't want this afternoon to end," she muttered.

There was a pause and then she felt the bed rock as Brittany shifted over closer to her. Santana drew her arm away from her eyes in time for Brittany to drape herself over Santana, kissing the skin over her collarbone.

"I didn't either, but…"

"But what?" Santana said, half trying to sit up.

Brittany grinned and pressed her lips so hard up against Santana's cheek that it smooshed sideways. "I'm really hungry," she mumbled against it.

* * *

><p>She and Brittany were late enough to dinner that they missed the daily notices and were just able to sneak into line with Brittany's ninth grade friends while the rest of the tenth graders were already sitting down. Brittany's ninth grade friends greeted her with ear splitting excitement and a barrage of questions about where she'd been. Brittany just smiled airily and gestured towards her throat, saying something about an infection.<p>

As they held their trays out for their burger buns and patties, Santana scanned the crowded tables to see who was still left eating dinner from the tenth graders. To her discomfort, she saw Quinn, Amy and Emma sitting at a table with Sugar and Mercedes. The others had all left.

Santana decided that she and Brittany would take the longest they could to assemble the rest of their burger contents in the hopes that Quinn, Emma and Amy would have finished theirs and left. She turned with her tray, about to get Brittany's attention, but saw that Brittany had already finished making her burger and was on her way over to the tenth grade table. Santana paused and cursed under her breath, hovering awkwardly over the salad table. She hurriedly piled cheese, lettuce and tomato on her burger and followed after Brittany, gripping the edges of her tray for dear life.

The atmosphere when she arrived at table seemed relatively normal. Sugar and Mercedes had engaged Brittany in a conversation about their English homework and Emma, Amy and Quinn were laughing about something Santana hadn't quite caught.

Santana's arrival was barely acknowledged by Quinn, Emma or Amy, which was actually a sort of relief. Santana took the seat opposite Brittany, beside Mercedes, and shot Brittany a grin when she looked up.

"I can give you the worksheets you missed," Sugar was saying, "and all you have to do is read 8 chapters and fill them in."

"Easy enough," Brittany nodded.

"Yeah. Too bad the book is written in like…a completely different version of English," Mercedes pointed out. "Thou shalt not…blah blah blah…"

Santana swallowed a bite of her burger. "What the hell is your class studying? The bible?" She asked.

"Nah-uh," Sugar shook her head, "Jane Eyre."

"They don't speak like that," Santana scoffed, "you're several centuries out, Mercedes."

"Woah," Mercedes put up her hands, "since when were you an English geek?"

"It's called common sense," Santana shot back, trying to hide her grin. It all felt normal- hanging out and eating dinner with everyone and with Brittany opposite her, shooting her looks full of everything that made Santana's insides feel spun out and jumpy.

She and Brittany were half way through dinner when the others finished. Quinn, Amy and Emma all stood up, but Mercedes and Sugar stayed sitting.

"We'll wait with you two," Mercedes said.

"Yeah," Sugar agreed, "partly because we like you and partly because Rachel wanted us to help her with her drama homework after dinner. And neither of us want to run lines with her as her love interest."

"Fair enough," Brittany said wisely, "being Rachel's love interest must be tiring. I don't know how Finn remembers all his lines."

Santana tried to hold back her laughter, but as Mercedes and Sugar snorted behind their hands, Santana let herself go along with them.

"That was funny, Brittany," Emma said with a wide, fake smile. She, Amy and Quinn were filing past them with their empty dinner plates.

"Oh," Brittany looked up with her usual innocent nonchalance and returned the smile, "Thanks, Em."

"Brittany!" Quinn said, doing a double take as though she had only just noticed her. Immediately, Santana tensed, watching Quinn turn to face Brittany. "I forgot to ask, have you had the chance to check your email lately?"

Brittany finished her bite of burger and shook her head, poking her bottom lip out slightly. "No. I haven't because my parents had my laptop. I'll check it tonight, though."

"Okay, cool," Quinn said, fixing her bright smile at Brittany before turning and striding away. Emma and Amy followed after her, their faces both straining against suppressed giggles.

"What was that all about?" Mercedes frowned, following Quinn's progress with her eyes.

Brittany shrugged and took another bite of her burger. "We have geography together, so it's probably just homework sheets or something."

"Check here," Sugar said, sliding her iPhone across the table towards Brittany.

"Oh," Brittany grinned, dusting her hands off on her uniform and picking up the phone.

While they waited, Sugar turned to Santana. "Are you going home this weekend?" She asked.

"No," Santana shook her head.

"Good!" Sugar said, clapping her hands in excitement. "You and Britt and me and Rory are going on a double date then. Okay?"

"Uh…" Santana looked over awkwardly at Brittany to gauge her reaction but realized Brittany wasn't even paying attention. She was cradling Sugar's phone, frowning at the screen and pinching her bottom lip between her fingers.

"What's wrong?" Santana asked, leaning forwards and tapping the table near Brittany to make her look up. Brittany didn't shift her eyes from the screen. With a sickening drop in her stomach, Santana realized they were shining with tears.

"Britt?" Santana murmured, tapping the table again.

"Are you okay, B?" Sugar asked.

"I have an email from Coach Sylvester saying I'm off the Cheerios," Brittany said in a deadpanned voice. "Quinn is taking my place as choreographer as well."


	18. No Place Else Announcement

Hi everyone!

Thanks so much for your continued interest in No Place Else!

This isn't a chapter update - just a way to get in touch with everyone at once to make an announcement.

I've decided I will FINISH No Place Else. I am in the process of trying to locate my notebook that contained all the planning around the rest of the story. There's about 7 chapters left (in my memory).

You can expect the next chapter to be posted within the month.

I'm looking forward to continuing this journey with you all!

Thanks,  
>Lumos<p> 


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